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ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 
F.  BRITTEN  AUSTIN 


ACCORDING 
TO  ORDERS 


BY 


F.  BRITTEN  AUSTIN 

AUTHOR  OP  "bATTLEWBACK,"   "iN  ACTION," 

"the  shaping  of  lavinia,"  etc. 


NEW  XBJr  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1919, 
By  George  H,  Doran  Company 


Copyright,  1917,  by  F.  Britten  Austin 
Copyright,  1918,  by  The  Curtis  Publishing  Company 
Copyright,  1918,  by  The  Street  and  Smith  Corporation 
Copyright,  1918,  by  The  Red  Book  Corporation 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


A93S 


TO 

GEORGE  HORACE  LORIMER 


\ 


QQ'Ji^Q*^ 


CONTENTS 

Zu  Befehl II 

II 
In  the  Hindenburg  Line 41 

III 
The  Terror  in  the  Sky 75 

IV 
Panzerkraftwaoen lOl 

V 
The  Spy 128 

VI 
iV^CH  Verdun 159 

VII 
The  Conquerors 190 

VIII 
The  Sea  Devil 221 

IX 

The  Iron  Cross 250 

X 

"And  the  Earth  Opened  Her  Mouth — "  ...     283 

XI 
Peace 316 


vii 


ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 


••«  ••  •  • 


ACCORDING 
TO  ORDERS 


ZU  BEFEHLt 

Zu  Befehll  means  "according  to  orders.'*  It  isi 
also  the  invariable  German  military  acknowledgment 
of  a  command  from  a  superior. 

THE  three  battalions  of  the  — th  Regiment, 
300th  Ersatz  Division,  had  acquired  a  senti- 
ment almost  of  domicile  in  the  little  French  town  set 
among  the  yet  leafless  orchards  in  a  hollow  of  the 
rolling  Picardy  country.  They  had  been  long  upon 
this  sector,  had  come  up  for  the  fierce  struggles  in 
the  Pierre  St.  Vaast  Wood  at  the  time  of  the  Battle 
of  the  Somme,  in  September,  191 6,  and  during  their 
spells  in  the  front  line  in  the  dreary  winter  which  fol- 
lowed, while  the  French  shells  wailed  over  their 
heads  to  fling  up  founts  of  mud  in  the  quagmire 
behind  the  trenches,  they  looked  back  to  their  rest 
area  with  something  akin  to  nostalgia.  When  at 
last,  relieved  for  a  few  weeks,  they  tramped,  hag- 

II 


12  ;  :  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

gard;  bearded  and. my d-caked,  into  the  narrow  cob- 
bled streets'  *whicn  led  into  the  tree-surrounded 
Grande  Place,  with  its  Joan  of  Arc  statue  in  the 
centre,  it  was  almost  as  if  they  had  returned  to  their 
native  townships  remote  beyond  the  Rhine.  They 
sang,  with  a  spasm  of  lustiness,  "/«  der  Heimat — 
in  der  Heimat  da  ffiehfs  ein  WiedersehenV*  in  a 
swinging  choral  that  had  a  note  of  real  homecoming 
as  the  heavy  rifles  were  shifted  to  the  correct  smart 
slope  upon  the  shoulder.  Inscriptions  upon  the 
shops,  indicative  of  the  adaptability  of  human  na- 
ture and  the  business  instincts  of  the  commerqanU — 
or  rather  of  the  brave  wives  of  the  commerqants 
distant  in  the  French  trenches — helped  the  illusion. 
Strips  of  paper  pasted  across  the  windows  bore  the 
outlandish  words  Delikatessen,  Ranch-  und  Speise 
Mittel,  traced  for  a  dimly  comprehending  landlady 
by  an  obliging  German  soldier  to  the  allurement  of 
his  fellows. 

These  good  ladies  stood  at  the  doors  of  their 
shops  while  the  ranks  went  swinging  by  in  the  dusk, 
and  said  to  one  another  with  a  quiet  certitude: 
**Oui,  c*est  la  trois-centieme  encore*'  From  the 
river  of  faces  that  flowed  through  the  twilight  came 
hoarse  guttural  cries  of  recognition  from  German 
soldiers  childishly  anxious  to  be  remembered.  They 
met  with  no  response.  The  women  at  the  doors 
stood  calmly  interested  as  company  after  company 
tramped  rhythmically  past,  dreaming  perhaps  of  a 
day  when  a  battalion  of  another  race  should  march 


ZIJ  BEFEHL!  IS 

4own  that  street  in  a  tumult  of  enthusiasm  that 
brought  a  lump  to  the  throat  and  a  mist  to  the  eyes 
merely  to  imagine  it. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  battalions  had  broken 
ranks  and  had  surged  out  of  their  billets  in  throngs 
of  soldiermen  arm  in  arm  in  twos  and  threes,  a 
woman  under  the  hanging  oil  lamp  in  the  tiny  shop 
would  look  up  at  a  remembered  face  with  a  little 
smile  and  say,  half  in  quiet  malice,  half  in  natural 
human  friendliness: 

*^Ah,  votis  n!etes  pas  tue,  alorsT* 

And  the  German,  grinning,  would  reply  in  his 
clumsy  pronunciation : 

**Non,  matame — has  done — encored 

Then  the  woman  would  break  into  a  little  merry 
laugh — *^Ah!  il  ne  sera  jamais  doue — c^t  homme-lhn 
as  she  pushed  the  desired  article  across  the  counter. 
And  the  German,  grinning  uncomprehendingly, 
would  tramp  heavily  out  of  the  shop. 

Relations  between  the  conquerors  and  the — tem- 
porarily— conquered,  if  not  cordial,  were  at  least 
friendly.  The  French  women  had  homes  to  be  kept 
together  and  young  mouths  to  be  fed.  The  Ger- 
man soldiers  naturally  relaxed  from  the  strain  of 
those  long,  drear  weeks  when  they  lived  under  the 
alternative  of  kill  or  be  killed.  Besides,  human 
beings  not  actually  engaged  in  hostilities  cannot  live 
in  close  propinquity  without  the  emergence  of  amica- 
ble sentiments.  The  German  soldiers  looked  at  the 
little  children  and  remembered  that  they  themselves, 


14  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

many  of  them,  were  fathers.  The  mothers  remarked 
the  caress  and  beamed  with  that  maternal  emotion 
which  forgets  nationality.  For  a  final  reason,  the 
German  military-police  system  was  strict.  It  con- 
ferred a  sense  of  security  on  the  one  party  while  it 
enforced  a  stem  discipline  on  the  other. 

On  a  bright  March  morning,  with  the  sun  shining 
so  cheerfully  from  a  pale-blue  sky  that  there  was  a 
chatter  of  bird  notes  among  the  bare  trees  of  the 
orchard,  the  Gefreite  Hans  Kellner  took  a  walk 
round  the  billet  familiar  to  him  from  previous  oc- 
cupancy. The  battalion  had  been  dismissed  early 
from  parade  on  this  first  morning  after  their  ar- 
rival in  the  rest  area,  in  order  that  the  men  might 
clean  their  kits  and  otherwise  recuperate  from  the 
fatigues  of  a  spell  of  particularly  bad  weather  in 
the  trenches.  The  Gefreite,  whose  step  in  rank 
above  the  simple  private  absolved  him  from  the  duty 
of  cleaning  up  the  barn  in  which  his  squad  had  slept, 
wandered  round  the  house,  his  long  porcelain-bowled 
pipe  hanging  from  his  teeth,  and  looked  critically 
for  any  change  that  might  have  occurred  since  his 
last  visit.  There  was  none.  The  house — a  farm- 
stead which  was  the  first  of  the  buildings  of  the  town 
when  entered  by  the  main  road — wore  Its  normal 
look  of  agricultural  occupation,  apparently  unaf- 
fected by  the  war.  There  was  still  a  quantity  of  hay 
and  straw  in  the  barns.  The  fowls  pecked  assidu- 
ously as  of  old  on  the  manure  heap  In  front  of  the 
house,  in  the  courtyard  all  but  inclosed  by  the  barns 


ZU  BEFEHL!  15 

and  opening  onto  the  road  by  a  heavy  double  gate- 
way. The  stables  were  empty;  the  horses — he  knew 
them  to  be  poor  creatures  purchased  from  the  Ger- 
man authorities  after  being  cast  from  the  army — at 
work  in  the  fields.  The  orchard,  bright  with  its 
whitewashed  stems  in  the  sunshine,  was  just  show- 
ing its  first  buds. 

The  inhabitants  were  unchanged  also.  M.  De- 
lavigne,  the  farmer,  a  man  of  about  forty  years, 
whose  class  had  not  yet  been  called  to  the  colours 
when  the  invaders  swept  over  the  land  and  shut  him 
off  from  the  French  authorities,  passed  through  the 
yard  on  his  way  to  the  house.  The  German  touched 
his  cap  and  diffidently  murmured  ^^Bonjour^  mori' 
sieur/*  without,  however,  removing  his  pipe  from 
his  teeth.  The  Frenchman  answered  by  the  curt  nod 
that  had  been  his  invariable  response  when  Hans 
Kellner  had,  in  his  last  visit,  proffered  friendliness. 
He  heard  Marie,  the  servant  maid,  giggling  as  of 
old  with  the  soldiers  cleaning  the  barn,  as,  rather 
sheepishly,  he  followed  the  farmer  to  his  door.  Un- 
comfortably sensible  of  his  idleness  in  this  busy 
household,  he  shamefacedly  craved  companionship. 
On  the  threshold  of  the  big  kitchen  with  its  clean- 
scrubbed  wooden  furniture,  its  black  gulf  of  a  chim- 
ney, he  hesitated,  and  gazed  in  without  entering. 
Two  women  were  at  work  there — the  farmer's  wife, 
fresh  and  buxom,  some  ten  years  younger  than  her 
husband,  and  her  mother,  old  and  bent  with  many 
years  of  toil  in  the  fields.    The  old  woman  turned 


16  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

away  her  head  with  a  scowl.  The  farmer's  wife 
came  boldly  toward  the  German. 

"Ah,  gros  paresseux!*^  she  said  vivaciously.  "And 
there  is  a  heap  of  wood  to  be  chopped  in  the  corner 
of  the  yard!'* 

The  German  stared  at  her  for  a  moment  while 
his  dull  intelligence  lumbered  after  the  swift  run 
of  her  words.  Then  seizing  their  import  he  smiled, 
touched  his  cap  and  turned  with  docility  to  do  her 
bidding. 

He  procured  the  axe  with  a  precise  and  long- 
founded  knowledge  of  its  whereabouts.  Then  put- 
ting away  his  pipe  he  set  to  work  vigorously  upon 
the  heap  of  rough  timber.  The  chopped  wood  he 
piled  in  a  shed  with  scrupulous  neatness.  Marie- 
Louise,  the  farmer's  three-year-old  daughter,  tod- 
dled out  to  him  and  watched  him  while  he  worked. 

"Bonjour,  Marie-Louis eF'  said  Hans,  more  at 
home  with  the  child  than  with  any  other  member  of 
the  family. 

''  'Jour,  m'sieUy*  responded  Marie-Louise  gravely, 
her  none-too-clean  face  in  process  of  further  defile- 
ment from  the  morsel  of  chocolate,  acquired  from 
one  of  the  other  soldiers,  which  leaked  from  the  cor- 
ners of  her  mouth. 

His  task  finished,  Hans  Kellner  put  away  the  axe 
and  once  more  lit  the  pipe,  which  was  his  dearest 
possession. 

Marie-Louise  brightened  at  once. 

**Regarde — pipe!"  she  said  decisively. 


ZU  BEFEHL!  17 

The  German  held  down  the  porcelain  bowl» 
painted  with  a  highly  coloured  lady  in  yellow  hair 
and  red  peasant  jacket,  for  her  inspection.  Then 
replacing  the  mouthpiece  between  his  teeth  he  sud- 
denly hoisted  the  child  to  his  shoulder  and  marched 
off  with  her  to  the  gateway  opening  to  the  street. 

There  he  stood  sunning  himself,  the  little  one  held 
high,  prattling  and  laughing,  beating  upon  his  cap 
with  one  fist  while  the  other  arm  tightly  encircled 
his  head. 

Suddenly  the  German  soldier  perceived  a  motor 
car,  followed  by  a  second,  rushing  toward  the  town. 
He  had  a  glimpse  of  a  staff  flag  fluttering  above  the 
radiator.  In  an  instant  the  child  was  dashed  down, 
the  German  soldier  stood  rigid  and  saluted  with 
exact  precision  as  the  first  car  dashed  past.  The 
child  flung  down  upon  the  ground  burst  into  a  shriek 
of  bewilderment  and  pain. 

The  German  soldier  stood  like  a  statue  and  sa- 
luted again  as  the  second  car  shot  by.  The  first 
had  contained  the  divisional  general;  the  second  held 
members  of  his  staff.  To  Hans  Kellner  it  was  as 
though  the  gods  from  Olympus  had  whirled  along 
the  road,  suspending  the  functions  of  humanity. 

When  he  relaxed  from  his  stiff  posture,  after  a 
decent  interval  to  assure  himself  that  no  third  car 
followed,  the  child  had  fled  from  him,  was  disap- 
pearing with  last  audible  sobs  into  the  house. 

Hans  Kellner  gazed  stupidly  after  her,  then  philo- 
sophically replaced  his  pipestem  between  his  teeth. 


18  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  child's  grandmother  shook  her  fist  at  him 
from  the  doorway. 

The  divisional  general  followed  by  several  of  his 
staff  officers  climbed  the  wooden  staircase  of  the 
little  mairie  and  strode  into  the  office  of  the  regiment 
commander.  That  officer  jumped  from  his  seat  Into 
erect  rigidity  with  a  click  of  heels  and  spurs. 

"Good  morning,  Herr  Oberst/*  said  the  divisional 
general. 

"Good  morning,  excellenz**  replied  the  colonel, 
wondering  uneasily  if  all  the  regimental  returns  had 
been  correct  while  he  stood  respectfully  immobile. 

"Be  seated,  colonel,"  said  the  general,  dropping 
himself  heavily  into  the  chair  which  a  subaltern  mem- 
l)er  of  the  regimental  staff  hastened  to  place  for  him. 
"I  have  orders  for  you." 

"Zu  Befehl,  ExcellenzP*  said  the  regiment  com- 
mander zealously  ere  he  unbent  from  his  parade  atti- 
tude and  resumed  his  seat. 

The  divisional  general  tapped  his  hand  upon  the 
table. 

"We  are  evacuating  the  area,  colonel.  The  re- 
tirement will  be  carried  out  immediately." 

The  ohersfs  eyebrows  shot  up  at  this  startling 
intelligence.  He  looked  at  his  superior  as  though 
scarcely  crediting  his  ears. 

The  general  waved  away  his  doubts  with  an  airy 
motion  of  his  hand. 

"A  matter  of  strategy,  lieher  Oh  erst — gldnzende 
Kriegslist! — Hindcnburg's  master  stroke!     We  es- 


ZV  BEFEHL!  1^ 

cape  from  the  enemy  at  the  moment  he  intends  to 
deliver  his  decisive  blow  and  leave  him  a  vacuum — 
a  desert  I  However,  lieber  Oberst,  it  is  not  for  us 
to  discuss  the  decisions  which  have  been  ratified  by 
the  All-Highest  War  Lord — it  is  for  us  to  execute 
them.'*  He  blew  pompously  down  his  nose  into  his 
thrust-out  bristling  white  moustache  and  glared  at 
the  colonel  as  he  finished  this  sentence. 

'^Ja  wohl,  Excellenz — naturlich/^  said  the  colonel, 
all  subservience. 

**Gut"  said  the  general.  "The  situation  has  al- 
ready  been  long  foreseen.  You  have  your  orders. 
Open  your  Grosses-H auptquartier  secret  order  num- 
ber 355  and  you  will  find  your  instructions  in  de- 
tail. You  have  only  to  execute  them.  The  greatest 
possible  speed  is  essential.  The  regiment  must  be 
on  the  march  by  dawn  to-morrow.  Follow  your 
orders  strictly.  No  sentimental  considerations  may 
be  allowed  to  interfere  with  their  exact  performance. 
Get  the  civilian  population  under  guard  at  once. 
You  will  find  it  all  in  your  orders.  Men  under  sixty. 
Women  from  fifteen  to  forty-five.  Children  at  the 
breast  go  with  the  women.  The  train  for  the  men 
will  be  at  the  railway  station  at  four  this  after- 
noon. The  women's  trains  will  leave  at  five  and  six 
o'clock.  See  that  the  orders  about  fruit  trees  are 
thoroughly  carried  out — also  the  cattle.  A  pioneer 
company  will  report  to  you  in  half  an  hour  to  assist 
in  thQ  demolition  of  the  town."  He  rose  to  his  feet. 
"Those  are  your  orders.    I  rely  on  you,  colonel." 


^0  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  regiment  commander  also  rose  to  his  feet, 
stood  rigid  as  before. 

*'Zu  Befehl,  Excellenzr 

With  a  mutual  clicking  of  heels  the  divisional 
general  and  his  satellites  departed. 

In  as  short  a  time  as  they  could  answer  the  tele- 
phonic summons  the  three  battalion  commanders 
stood  before  the  colonel.  He  handed  each  of  them 
written  orders,  emphasised  particular  points,  quieted 
their  astonishment.  ^'Das  Meisterstuck  Hinden- 
hurgsT  That  was  the  key  word  to  confidence,  thor- 
oughly impressed  upon  them. 

"Destruction,  meine  Herren**  concluded  the  colo- 
nel— "no  looting!  That  is  what  your  men  must 
be  made  to  understand.  We  have  no  time  to  pack 
up  souvenirs.  Complete  destruction.  You  will  find 
your  times  for  marching  off  in  your  orders.  You 
must  be  strictly  punctual.  And  when  you  leave  you 
must  leave  only  a  desert  behind  you.  You  quite 
understand?    Then  get  to  work  quickly!" 

"Zw  Befehl,  Herr  OberstT  said  the  three  battal- 
ion commanders  in  chorus,  saluting  like  one  man  with 
a  simultaneous  click  of  spurs.  The  colonel  swept 
his  glance  over  the  row  of  middle-aged  faces,  flushed 
with  good  living,  in  front  of  him ;  the  faces  of  three 
not  unkind  fathers  of  families,  despite  the  military 
uniform.  Their  eyes  were  steady,  their  mouths  calm. 
He  dismissed  his  subordinates  with  an  imperious 
gesture. 

The  bugles  sounded  in  the  streets.     There  was  a 


ZV  BEFEHL!  21 

rush  of  heavy  feet  as  the  men  fell  in  their  ranks. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  two  battalions  stood 
ranked  in  long  lines  through  the  streets.  The  third 
battaHon  was  massed  in  column  of  companies  In 
the  Grande  Place.  The  major  commanding  that 
battalion  stood  In  conference  with  his  company  com- 
manders close  under  the  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc.  A 
group  of  pioneers  was  busy  excavating  a  hole  under 
the  base  of  the  monument.  The  battalion  com- 
mander concluded  his  orders. 

"As  far  as  possible  the  men  will  carry  out  the 
work  of  destruction  in  the  vicinity  of  their  own 
billets.  They  are  most  familiar  with  those  areas. 
These  orders  will  be  executed  with  the  utmost  speed 
and  thoroughness." 

'*Zu  Befehl,  Herr  MajorT  chorused  the  four 
company  commanders,  saluting,  ere  they  returned 
to  their  men. 

Almost  immediately  the  battalion  commenced  to 
move  off.  As  the  last  files  left  the  square  there  was 
a  loud  explosion,  a  cloud  of  smoke  and  dust  behind 
them.  The  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc  toppled  and 
crashed.  A  rush  of  women  to  the  doorways  of  the 
shops  bordering  on  the  square  followed  the  detona- 
tion. Shrill  feminine  cries  of  alarm  resounded  over 
the  steady  foot  beats  of  the  marching  troops.  Anx- 
ious mothers  clutched  their  children  to  them  and 
demanded  of  one  another  the  significance  of  this 
portent.  A  pioneer  disfigured  the  calm  features  of 
the  prostrate  statue  with  vehement  strokes  of  hi» 


gje  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

pick.  A  strong  patrol  of  mounted  military  police 
rode  into  the  square  and  descended  from  their 
horses. 

In  the  kitchen  of  the  farmstead  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  M.  Delavigne  finished  his  eleven  o'clock 
repast  without  troubling  himself  about  this  sudden 
assemblage  of  the  troops.  He,  his  wife,  his  mother- 
in-law,  fondly  attending  to  the  wants  of  Marie- 
Louise,  and  Marie,  the  servant,  sat  in  common  at 
the  bare  wood  table,  cut  in  common  from  the  long 
loaf  of  bread,  and  helped  themselves  as  their  appe- 
tites prompted  from  the  big  enamel  tureen  of  soup 
which  was  between  them. 

Suddenly  the  farmer  looked  up.  His  ear,  long 
habituated  to  the  usual  muttering  thunders  of  the 
battle  line  seven  or  eight  miles  away,  had  caught 
a  series  of  unfamiliar  detonations.  They  were  not 
particularly  loud  detonations — not  so  loud  as  the 
jarring  roar,  regularly  repeated,  which  he  knew  to 
come  from  the  big  gun  mounted  on  the  railway  truck 
— but  they  were  sharper  and  decidedly  louder  than 
the  customary  dull  reports  of  the  warring  artilleries. 
The  sharp  detonajtions  continued.  His  wife  also  re- 
marked them  and  they  exchanged  a  puzzled  look. 

"They  are  nearer!"  exclaimed  the  young  woman. 
The  routine  of  war  had  been  so  long  established 
for  them  that  any  deviation  from  the  normal  was 
full  of  significance.  "Perhaps^ — ^perhaps  it  is  true — 
after  all?" 

Her  husband  shook  his  head  pessimistically. 


ZU  BEFEHL!  23 

*'No ;  we  have  heard  it  too  many  times." 

The  old  woman  looked  up  from  her  soup,  gave 
a  glance  of  fondness  at  the  child  and  then  scowled. 
Ces  sales  Bochesf  But  they  are  going — ^they  are 
going!    I  feel  it  In  my  bones!'* 

The  farmer  did  not  reply.  At  a  repetition  of  the 
uncustomary  sounds  he  pushed  his  plate  from  him 
and  went  out  of  the  house  into  the  street. 

Along  the  main  road  from  the  westward,  whence 
proceeded  the  strange  detonations,  a  battery  of  heavy 
guns,  drawn  by  rumbling,  rattling  petrol  tractors, 
was  approaching  him.  Behind  that.  In  the  distance, 
was  a  column  of  motor  lorries,  also  coming  toward 
the  town.  Beyond  them  was  a  cloud  of  dust  indica- 
tive of  yet  more  traffic  on  the  road.  Of  signs  of 
hostilities  there  was  none.  The  sunshine  flooded  a 
rolling  landscape  where  most  of  the  fields  were 
brown.  From  an  isolated  farm  between  him  and 
the  battle  front  the  chimney  smoke  ascended  peace- 
fully. 

The  heavy  battery  went  noisily  past  him.  He 
paid  it  no  attention.  For  the  last  week  similar  bat- 
teries had  been  coming  from  the  Front  every  day 
in  such  numbers  as  to  give  rise  to  the  rumour  that 
the  Germans  were  preparing  a  retreat.  The  farm- 
er's bitter  scepticism  was  the  product  of  a  long  series 
of  such  rumours  and  their  corollaries  of  deception. 
The  column  of  motor  lorries  followed,  loaded  high 
with  balks  of  timber,  huge  reels  of  barbed  wire  and 


24  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

other  engineers*  stores.  Behind  them  an  intermina- 
bly long  column  of  field  artillery  approached. 

The  farmer  could  make  nothing  of  the  sharp  det- 
onations save  that  a  battery  had  been  newly  placed 
in  position  nearer  than  usual  to  the  town. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  crying  his 
name  in  accents  of  alarm.  It  was  Jules,  the  lad 
who  should  have  been  working  with  the  horses  in  the 
fields. 

"Monsieur  Delavignel  Monsieur  Delavignel 
They  have  shot  the  horses  I  They  have  shot  the 
horses!" 

The  farmer  turned  on  him  sharply. 

"Shot  the  horses?    Qui-qaf 

''Les  Bochesf — ^the  Germans!'*  The  lad  hur- 
riedly substituted  the  politer  designation  he  had  un- 
warily forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment. 
The  vernacular  was  unsafe  for  public  use.  He  en- 
tered upon  a  long,  incoherent  story  of  the  incident, 
trotting  by  the  side  of  the  farmer,  who  strode  hur- 
riedly in  blazing  wrath  toward  the  scene  of  the 
outrage. 

"We  were  working  in  the  big  field,  m*sieu — just 
at  the  end  of  the  furrow,  m'sieu — and  they  came 
and  shot  them — five  of  them.  They  laughed, 
m'sieu ** 

At  that  moment  Marie  came  running  after  them. 

"Monsieur  Delavigne!  Monsieur  Delavigne!*' 
Her  voice  was  a  raucous  scream.  The  farmer 
stopped — Immediately  conscious  of  a  new  calamity. 


ZIJ  BEFEHL!  25 

"They  are  cutting  down  the  trees  I  They  are  cutting 
down  the  trees  in  the  orchard!" 

M.  Delavigne  did  not  ask  who.  There  was  an 
accent  on  the  "they"  which  was  sufficiently  indica- 
tive. The  blood  rushed  to  his  face.  His  fingers 
clawed  at  the  palms  of  his  hands  as  his  fists  worked 
in  an  overmastering  rage.  His  existence  was  crum- 
bling about  him.  He  turned  and  ran  toward  the 
orchard.  It  had  been  the  pride  of  his  father,  of 
his  grandfather;  It  was  now  his.  He  ran  as  a  man 
runs  to  fend  off  disaster. 

He  dashed  round  the  house  to  where  the  long 
rows  of  whitewashed  tree  trunks  gleamed  in  the 
spring  sunshine.  The  orchard  was  filled  with  Ger- 
man soldiers  furiously  at  work,  and  resounded  to 
the  thuds  of  many  axes.  The  Germans  were  not  cut- 
ting the  trees  down.  They  had  not  time  for  that. 
They  were  deeply  gashing  all  round  the  trunks  so 
that  the  trees  would  inevitably  die.  To  the  farmer 
it  was  the  equivalent  of  cold-blooded  murder. 

He  rushed  at  the  nearest  man  with  a  snarl,  flung 
himself  upon  him  In  a  struggle  to  wrest  away  the 
axe.  For  a  moment  the  two  men  swayed,  evenly 
matched,  the  farmer  uttering  unintelligible  sounds, 
the  German  grinning.  Then  another  German  aimed 
a  blow  at  the  farmer  with  the  back  of  an  axe,  which, 
just  missing  his  head,  struck  his  shoulder  and  felled 
him  to  the  ground.  He  half  rose,  felt  his  right  arm 
useless,  and  cursed  savagely  at  the  two  men  who 
stood  over  him,   smiling  in  their  comfortable   su- 


26  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

periority.  A  German  officer  sauntered  up,  elegant 
and  close-buttoned,  monocle  dangling.  In  crisp,  de- 
cisive French  he  ordered  the  farmer  out  of  the  or- 
chard; in  his  own  language  he  brutally  ordered  his 
men  to  get  on  with  their  work.  The  Frenchman 
looked  at  him  with  the  eyes  of  a  man  who  despairs 
for  lack  of  a  weapon  that  will  kill. 

Jules  and  Marie  ran  up,  assisted  the  farmer  to 
his  feet  and  supported  him,  dazed  and  unsteady,  out 
of  the  orchard.  His  wife  came  running  toward  him, 
so  preoccupied  with  her  own  news  that  she  did  not 
at  first  notice  his  condition. 

"Henri  I  Henri  I  They  have  killed  the  cowl 
They  have  killed  the  cow  I  Oh  I  Henri  I  Oh,  what 
is  it  that  they  have  done?  What  is  it  that  they 
have  done  to  you?" 

She  flung  her  arms  round  him,  pushing  aside  the 
servants.  They  stood  speechless,  clinging  to  one 
another,  man  and  wife,  drowning  in  an  unexpected 
flood  of  disaster.  They  stood  locked,  paralysed, 
for  a  long  moment  before  the  woman  let  her  face 
drop  suddenly  on  her  husband's  breast  in  an  out- 
burst of  tears.  This  was  ruin — deliberately  inflicted. 
In  the  shock  of  it  their  numbed  brains  sought  no 
explanation. 

The  voice  of  the  old  woman  roused  them : 
"Henri  1  Henri!  Elisel  Elise!  Quickly,  quickly!*' 
She  was  out  of  sight,  in  the  courtyard.    Alarmed 
they  hastened  toward  her.     She  stood  clutching  an- 
other old  woman,  who  spoke  with  excited  volubility. 


ZU  BEFEHLf  27 

At  the  appearance  of  her  son-in-law  she  turned  and 
cried  in  triumph : 

**Henri!  Henri!  Les  Boches  s^en  vontf  Les 
Boches  s*en  vontT  She  shouted  the  opprobrious 
name  with  a  wild  indifference  to  the  German  sol- 
diers in  the  courtyard.  *'They  are  going  everywhere 
—everywhere  I" 

The  farmer  listened  to  the  first  few  sentences  of 
the  old  woman  who  had  brought  the  news.  Then, 
reinvigorated  with  an  incredible  hope,  he  dashed  to 
the  gateway. 

The  street  was  blocked  with  the  long  column  of 
field  artillery,  immobile  until  some  obstruction  in 
the  town  was  cleared.  The  limbers  were  piled  high 
with  packages ;  the  gunners  who  sat  upon  them  were 
gloomy  and  silent,  their  long  pipes  hanging  from 
their  mouths.  Behind  them  the  road  to  the  west- 
ward was  packed  with  troops.  On  parallel  roads 
he  saw  the  dust  of  marching  columns.  A  dense 
smoke  was  welling  out  of  the  isolated  farmhouse  in 
the  near  distance. 

Coupled  with  the  old  woman's  intelligence  these 
signs  were  decisive.  He  flung  his  arm  into  the  air, 
forgetting  his  pain. 

"It  is  the  retreat!"  he  cried.  "The  retreat  at 
last  I     Come  all  of  you  and  look!    The  retreat!" 

He  could  find  no  other  words  to  express  his  joy. 
The  entire  household  crowded  round  him  at  the 
gateway.  Even  Marie-Louise  toddled  out,  clutch- 
ing at  her  mother's  hand. 


28  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  old  woman  who  had  brought  the  news  began 
to  sob  and  recommenced  the  recital  of  her  wrongs. 
It  was  her  farmhouse  that  was  now  whelmed  in  dense 
smoke  yonder. 

*T  am  ruined!"  she  moaned.    "Ruined I" 

"Ruined!"  cried  the  farmer.  "So  am  I.  But 
what  matters?  What  does  anything  matter?  They 
are  retreating — retreating!  We  shall  be  France 
once  more — France !  Oh,  ma  femmef*  He  kissed 
her.     "France!     France!     Freedom!" 

At  that  moment  a  squad  of  infantry,  led  by  an 
officer,  came  up  the  street  toward  them  from  the 
town,  just  finding  room  to  pass  by  the  stationary 
artillery. 

The  squad  halted  at  a  sharp  word  of  command. 
The  group  of  peasants  at  the  gateway,  intoxicated 
with  the  prospect  of  deliverance,  scarcely  saw  them, 
perceived  only  the  long  columns  heading  eastward. 
Only  Marie,  the  servant,  giggled  at  the  Gefreite 
Hans  Kellner,  stolid  in  the  near  ranks. 

The  officer  barked  out  his  orders. 

"Kellner!  Take  two  men!  Escort  that  man  to 
the  square !"    He  pointed  at  the  farmer. 

The  Gefreite  Hans  Kellner  stepped  out  of  the 
ranks. 

"Zm  Befehl,  Herr  LeutnantT*  he  said,  and  sa- 
luted. 

A  moment  later  the  farmer  found  himself  in  the 
powerful  grasp  of  two  soldiers.  The  shriek  from 
his  wife  was  simultaneous. 


ZU  BEFEHL!  ^9 

"March!"  cried  Kellner,  raising  his  rifle. 

The  farmer  stared  round  him  in  horror  and  de- 
spair, stunned  by  this  pitiless  reversal  of  fortune. 
The  blue  sky  seemed  black.  His  eyes  rested  on  the 
flashing  bayonet,  the  ugly  little  dark  hole  of  the  rifle 
muzzle  close  against  his  face.  The  menace  held 
them  fascinated. 

With  a  wild  cry  his  wife  sprang  at  the  gefreite, 
clutching  at  his  weapon. 

**Et  toiy  Hans  Kellner!  Qt/est-ce  que  tu  penses  a 
fairef  She  used  the  second  person  singular,  as  she 
would  to  a  servant,  to  this  man  whom  she  had  many 
times  ordered  to  chop  wood  and  to  perform  a  dozen 
other  menial  tasks. 

The  German  thrust  her  from  him  with  a  violent 
hand.     He  bulked  huge,  stolid,  terribly  impersonal. 

"March  I"  he  commanded,  and  there  was  no  dis- 
puting the  order. 

Like  a  condemned  man  the  farmer  moved  away 
between  his  guards.  With  another  shriek  his  wife 
threw  herself  at  the  officer  and  clamoured:  "Why? 
Why?  Why?  What  are  they  going  to  do?"  She 
fell  on  her  knees  to  him. 

The  officer  turned  his  back  on  her  as  though  she 
did  not  exist,  issued  further  orders  to  his  squad. 
The  young  woman  got  up,  panting,  wild-eyed.  She 
was  unaware  that  she  held  the  tiny  Marie-Louise 
tightly  clutched  by  the  hand.  She  saw  her  husband 
disappearing  down  the  street,  along  the  endless  line 
of  guns  and  limbers  where  the  artillerymen  sat  aloft, 


80  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

immobile  like  barbaric  gods,  cruelly  indifferent.  She 
sprang  after  him,  dragging  the  now  whimpering 
child  by  the  hand.  In  a  ha^e  of  perception  she 
heard  her  old  mother  cursing  the  German  officer 
behind  her. 

The  three  Germans  ^nd  their  prisoner  marched 
steadily  down  the  long  street  into  the  town.  Other 
captives  preceded  them,  and  others  were  brought 
out  of  the  houses  as  they  passed.  Mme.  Delavigne 
hastened  to  keep  up,  deaf  to  the  cries  of  Marie- 
Louise,  pulled  off  her  feet. 

They  reached  the  square  just  as  the  artillery  com- 
menced to  move  again.  At  its  farther  end  was  a 
mass  of  male  civilians,  guarded  by  German  soldiers 
with  fixed  bayonets.  Covering  the  mass  were  two 
machine  guns  on  their  low  tripods.  The  men  who 
squatted  by  the  weapons  ready  to  work  them  laughed 
to  one  another  at  the  comic  despair  of  some  of  the 
men  in  the  crowd. 

At  the  near  end  of  the  square  was  a  mass  of 
women,  soldiers  walking  up  and  down  in  front  of 
them,  shouting  at  the  females  in  exasperation  at 
the  shrieks  and  cries.  Between  the  two  masses  was 
a  group  of  superior  officers,  calmly  chatting.  One, 
who  had  seated  himself  on  the  head  of  the  pros- 
trate statue,  was  flicking  dust  from  his  riding  boots. 

The  farmer  was  led  across  the  square  toward  the 
mass  of  his  compatriots.  His  wife  dodged  a  Ger- 
man soldier  and  essayed  to  follow  him.  Instantly  a 
rough  grasp  fastened  upon  her  shoulder  and  pulled 


ZV  BEFEHL!  31 

her  back.  She  strove  toward  her  husband,  fighting 
like  a  wildcat  with  her  one  free  hand. 

"Henri!     Henri  I*'  she  shrieked. 

The  captive,  firmly  held  by  his  guards,  turned  his 
head  with  an  effort. 

*^ Adieu,  ma  femmer*  he  shouted.  ** Adieu!  Be 
brave !"    She  had  a  last  glimpse  of  his  face. 

The  young  woman  felt  herself  dragged  away, 
heard  a  brutal  voice  shouting  guttural  threats  into 
her  ear.  A  piercing  cry  from  Marie-Louise  brought 
her  to  realisation  of  the  little  one  whose  hand  she 
grasped.  The  child  was  torn  away  from  her.  She 
let  it  go  in  the  infant's  yell  of  pain  at  the  strain 
upon  the  tiny  arm.  An  instant  later  the  mother  was 
flung  violently  into  the  mass  of  weeping  women.  She 
saw  the  child  carried,  kicking  and  struggling,  by  a 
burly  German  soldier,  to  the  corner  of  the  square. 
She  fainted. 

In  the  centre  the  group  of  German  superior  offi- 
cers continued  their  calm  conversation.  One  replied 
to  a  question. 

"No,"  he  said.  "They  go  to  quite  different  des- 
tinations— the  men  to  one  place,  the  women  to  an- 
other." 

The  entire  group  turned  to  watch  the  first  batch 
of  male  civilians  marched  of!  to  the  railway  station. 
Hans  Kellner  stolidly  marched  his  men  up  the  hill 
again  to  the  farmstead.  On  the  road  they  passed 
Marie,  the  servant,  weeping  hysterically,  being 
pushed  along  with  several  other  distracted  women 


8g  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

toward  the  square.  Their  conductors  joked  at  them 
in  debased  French.  The  gefreite  reported  to  his 
officer,  was  received  with  a  curt  nod. 

"And  the  woman?'*  asked  the  lieutenant. 

"With  the  other  women  in  the  square,  Herr 
Leutnant/' 

"So  I  I  expected  that.  Pity  the  servant  did  not 
go  as  well.  It  would  have  saved  an  escort."  He 
gave  further  orders. 

As  the  gefreite  entered  the  courtyard  the  old 
grandmother  sprang  at  him,  held  him  with  gripping 
fingers.    Her  face  was  startling  in  its  wild  despair. 

"Marie-Louise!"  she  shrieked.  "Marie-Louise I 
Where  is  she?" 

The  German  stared  at  her  stupidly  for  an  instant. 
The  child? 

*^Zais  hasF^  he  said  brutally,  and  wrenched  himself 
away  from  her. 

The  old  woman  screamed,  rushed  toward  the 
gateway.     German  soldiers  barred  her  exit. 

Within  the  house  the  men  lately  billeted  upon  the 
premises  were  working  joyously  at  their  task  of  de- 
struction. Laughing  faces  appeared  at  the  windows 
as  they  flung  out  articles  of  furniture  and  clothing. 
Other  men  were  dragging  out  straw  from  the  bams, 
mingling  it  in  a  great  heap  with  the  furniture  thrown 
into  the  courtyard. 

The  old  woman,  endowed  suddenly  with  the  fierce, 
energy  of  the  insane,  rushed  from  one  group  to  an- 
other, hampering  though  she  did  not  stay  their  work. 


ZU  BEFEHL!  33 

Exasperated  by  this  annoyance,  some  of  the  soldiers 
seized  her,  forced  her  into  a  chair  that  had  been 
flung  into  the  courtyard,  tied  her  into  it.  But  her 
tongue  was  not  stilled.  Her  vociferation  grew  un- 
bearable. They  gagged  her.  She  sat  there,  bound, 
a  towel  across  the  lower  part  of  her  face,  gazing 
at  them  as  they  sprinkled  oil  liberally  over  the  heap 
and  about  the  barns  and  house.  The  fire  commenced 
with  choking  volumes  of  smoke. 

The  three  battalions  laboured  furiously  in  an  orgy 
of  destruction.  They  worked  in  little  groups,  hack- 
ing, smashing,  applying  the  torch.  Slaughtered  ani- 
mals encumbered  the  courtyards  of  the  houses  on 
the  outskirts.  Dogs  dashed  down  the  streets,  yelp- 
ing in  panic,  their  tails  between  their  legs.  Heavy 
explosions  shook  the  air  and  earth.  Great  masses 
of  smoke  rose  above  the  roofs,  rolled  down  the 
streets.  There  was  an  incessant  fusillade  from  rifle 
cartridges  left  by  careless  soldiers  in  their  blazing 
billets.  The  Germans  shouted  and  laughed  at  the 
constant  reports,  blurred  to  personal  danger  by  their 
libations  at  the  broached  wine  casks,  the  snatched 
bottles  from  the  litter  of  broken  glass  on  the  floors 
of  the  shops.  The  calmly  strutting  officers  permit- 
ted the  orgy  to  the  point  of  recklessness,  checked  it 
where  recklessness  might  have  passed  into  incapac- 
ity. A  haze  of  smoke  overhung  the  town  and  ob- 
scured the  sun.  The  fall  of  the  church  steeple  was 
seen  only  by  those  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  though 
all  lifted  their  heads  at  its  resounding  crash. 


34  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Through  this  inferno  of  smoking  broken  houses 
echoing  to  harsh  cries  bodies""of  troops  passed  in- 
terminably eastward  at  their  best  pace,  halting  not, 
except  for  a  hastily  removed  obstruction.  Battery 
after  battery,  long  ammunition  columns,  dashed 
through  at  a  hand  gallop.  Infantry,  choking  and 
cursing  the  fumes,  poured  through  in  long  rivers  of 
muddy  field  grey,  steel  helmeted,  rifles  at  the  slope. 
Their  officers  urged  them  on  with  fierce  shouts  as 
they  turned  their  heads  to  glance  at  the  sanitary 
squads  busily  polluting  the  water  supply.  The  first- 
line  transport  which  followed  them  was  loaded  high 
with  domestic  articles,  hung  round  with  slaughtered 
poultry.  For  hour  after  hour  the  hurried  procession 
continued. 

The  trains  of  cattle  trucks,  choked  full  with  de- 
spairing captives,  had  long  ago  left  the  railway  sta- 
tion for  their  remote  destinations.  The  first  mad- 
dened scurry  of  ancient  men,  of  old  women,  of  young 
children,  left  behind  amid  this  chaos,  had  long  ceased. 
Their  screams  were  heard  no  more.  The  streets 
were  entirely  filled  with  men  in  uniform.  Those  be- 
neath the  notice  of  the  retreating  conquerors  were 
fleeing  blindly  over  the  countryside.  Only  here  and 
there  in  dark  cellars  underneath  blazing  houses  did 
fear-paralysed  groups  of  old  people  still  cower. 
Some  of  the  soldiery  made  a  virtue  of  turning  them 
out. 

Night  fell.  The  town,  brick  and  stone  built,  did 
not  catch  fire  readily,  but  in  the  lurid  glare  from 


ZU  BEFEHL!  35 

houses  satisfactorily  ablaze  groups  of  smoke-black- 
ened men  darted  from  building  to  building,  insured 
its  complete  destruction.  Two  battalions  reported 
that  there  was  no  more  to  be  done,  fell  in  the  ranks 
fitfully  illumined  from  the  red-windowed  houses  in 
the  square,  marched  out  in  succession.  The  third 
battalion  hastened  to  be  finished  with  its  area. 
Shells,  French  shells,  commenced  to  wail  over  and 
crash  among  the  ruins,  an  alarming  spur  to  effort. 
Sharp  bursts  of  rifle  fire  came  disturbingly  from  the 
west.  The  rear  guard  was  in  action  in  close  vicinity 
to  the  town.  A  German  battery  to  the  eastward 
sent  shells  rushing  overhead. 

The  first  grey  of  dawn  crept  into  the  sky,  not 
perceptible  through  the  pall  of  smoke,  as  Hans  Kell- 
ner's  battalion  formed  its  ranks  in  the  square.  The 
gefreite  settled  himself  "at  ease"  between  his  com- 
rades, waiting  for  the  commands.  In  the  interval 
he  looked  round  him  and  saw  the  prostrate  statue, 
now  abandoned  in  the  centre.  A  half-linked  thought 
flitted  into  his  mind.  Marie-Louise?  What  had 
happened  to  her?  He  did  not  retain  it,  but  sprang 
sharply  to  attention  at  the  word  of  command  and 
stood  stiff  and  stolid.  A  moment  later  the  bat- 
talion was  in  column  of  route,  was  marching  out  of 
the  square. 

Hans  Kellner  was  in  the  rear  company  of  the  bat- 
talion. Individually  fatigued  though  they  were,  the 
men  seemed  to  derive  new  strength  from  their  cor- 
porate association,  in  grateful  contrast  to  their  scat- 


86  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

tered  toil.  The  battalion  swung  onward  like  one 
man,  with  powerful  strides,  hurrying  to  leave  behind 
it  the  horror  of  the  ravaged  town.  The  wailing, 
crashing  French  shells  arrived  more  frequently;  the 
German  battery  behind  the  town  banged  away  vigor- 
ously as  they  approached  it,  smiting  their  ears  with 
the  double  detonations  of  its  discharges,  lighting 
up  the  sky  with  broad  white  flashes.  This  fitful  illu- 
mination helped  the  battalion  to  cross  the  planks 
which  bridged  the  wide,  deep  trenches  excavated 
from  side  to  side  of  the  road.  The  rear  guard, 
when  it  finally  withdrew  from  the  town,  would  re- 
move those  bridges. 

The  battalion  tramped  on.  The  eastern  sky,  to- 
ward which  they  marched,  grew  lighter.  But  the 
night  had  not  yet  lifted.  Looking  back,  a  dark  sky 
was  suffused  with  a  ruddy  reflection.  Fierce  rifle 
fire  crackled,  rippled,  leaped  to  smashing  volleys 
behind  them.  Distant  machine  guns  hammered 
loudly  with  viciously  rapid  strokes.  The  German 
battery,  which  they  had  now  passed,  answered  the 
evidently  increasing  numbers  of  French  guns  with 
sharp  loud  reports,  single  now  that  they  were  no 
longer  in  front  of  its  muzzles,  regularly  and  quickly 
repeated,  incessant.  The  battalion  marched  on  with 
the  comfortable  feeling  that  the  fight  was  behind 
them,  receding  with  every  beat  of  its  thousand  boots 
upon  the  road. 

Suddenly  it  halted,  remained  stationary  for  so 
many  minutes  that  an  anxiety  rose  in  every  man,  was 


ZU  BEFEHL!  37 

communicated  to  his  fellows  as  they  listened  to  the 
savagely  vehement  rifle  fire  behind  them.  An  order 
was  passed  down  the  column  confirming  their  augury. 
The  battalion  turned  right  about,  its  direction  re- 
versed. Hans  Kellner's  company  was  now  at  the 
head  of  the  column.  He  heard  the  hollow  hoof  beats 
of  the  major's  horse  as  the  commander  cantered 
down  the  road  to  take  up  his  new  position  in  front. 
A  sharp  order  and  the  battalion  was  once  more  in 
motion.  This  time  they  marched  toward  that  near 
ruddy  glow  in  the  sky,  toward  the  menace  of  the 
fiercely  crackling  rifles.  They  scanned  the  dark 
horizon  with  questioning  eyes.  Men  in  that  long, 
sombre  succession  of  ranks  shifted  their  packs  with 
an  uneasy  movement  of  the  shoulders — felt  suddenly 
hungry. 

They  descended  into  the  town  and  scrambled 
once  more  over  the  precarious  bridges  spanning  the 
trenches  across  the  road.  The  battery  behind  them 
banged  away  rapidly.  They  prayed  inwardly  that 
it  might  not  cease.  The  battalion  halted  once  more 
in  the  gutted  square,  eerie  with  its  faint  reflections 
upon  skeletal  walls  from  glowing  red  heaps  within. 
The  commander  gave  his  orders.  The  hauptmann 
commanding  Kellner's  company  barked  out  his  ex- 
cerpt from  them.  The  company  ascended  the  hill 
to  the  westward,  along  the  main  road  by  which  the 
bulk  of  the  troops  had  retreated.  The  men  cast  un- 
quiet glances  at  the  shattered  houses  on  either  hand. 
The  French  shells  rushing  to  burst  among  the  ruins 


88  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

seemed  each  one  vindictively  accurate  as  it  ap- 
proached. 

The  company  halted.  The  subaltern  officers  re- 
ceived their  final  orders,  returned  to  their  sections. 
Once  more  upon  the  march  Hans  Kellner  turned  into 
that  gateway  where,  not  twenty-four  hours  before,  he 
had  sunned  himself  with  Marie-Louise  perched  upon 
his  shoulder.  The  barns  on  either  side  of  it  were 
now  mere  glowing  heaps,  hot  to  the  face  as  he  passed 
between  them.  The  farmhouse  beyond  was  a  mass 
of  charred  rafters  studded  with  spots  of  red  fire 
vivid  in  the  gloom.  His  squad  was  halted  in  the 
courtyard;  the  remainder  of  the  section  passed  on. 

A  sergeant  led  them  to  their  position,  just  out- 
side the  smoking  wreck  of  a  line  of  stables,  fronting 
the  dark  night  westward.  The  men  lay  down,  shel- 
tered more  or  less  by  heaps  of  bricks.  The  sergeant 
left  them  to  contemplate  the  Invisible  rifle  fire,  now 
loud  and  near,  in  front  of  them.  Hans  Kellner 
turned  himself,  looked  back  and  saw  the  ghostily 
glimmering  white  trunks  of  the  silent  orchard 
wounded  unto  death. 

Suddenly  a  memory  lodged  itself  in  his  mind, 
haunting  him  as  he  lay  there  waiting  the  moment 
for  action.  It  was  the  memory  of  the  old  woman, 
bound,  gagged,  in  a  chair  in  the  courtyard  just  be- 
hind him.  He  wondered.  He  had  not  seen  her. 
But  then  he  had  not  looked,  had  not  remembered 
her.  What  if  she  were  still  there,  helpless — ^the 
fight  to  surge  round  her  at  any  moment  ?    He  tried 


ZU  BEFEHL!  39 

to  dismiss  the  thought,  vaguely  feeling  it  an  un- 
worthy weakness,  but  failed.  At  last,  impelled  as 
by  a  decision  emanating  from  without  himself,  he 
rose  and  crept  back  into  the  courtyard. 

He  found  her.  She  sat  there,  beyond  a  glowing 
smoking  heap,  her  eyes  glaring,  terrible  in  her  silent 
immobility  among  this  ruin.  Shrinking  from  her  in 
a  curious  fear  he  cut  her  free.  She  sat  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two,  numbed.  Her  body  seemed  dead,  only 
her  eyes  alive.  He  stood  beside  her,  fascinated; 
pushed  her  to  assure  himself  that  she  yet  lived.  On 
the  instant,  with  a  wild  effort,  a  horrid  cry,  she 
sprang  at  his  face.  Startled  Into  self-defence  he 
felled  her  headlong  to  the  ground. 

He  had  scarcely  settled  himself  again  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  his  comrades  behind  the  heaps  of 
bricks  when  he  heard  a  torrent  of  hoof  beats,  a 
wild  rush  of  cavalrymen  in  panic  gallop  upon  the 
main  road  to  his  left.  They  swept  past,  like  wilde 
jdger  pursued  by  demons,  down  into  the  town.  Be- 
hind them  the  rifle  fire  burst  out  loud  and  prolonged. 
Hans  Kellner  saw  sharp  spurts  of  flame  leap  out 
away  in  the  darkness  into  which  he  gazed.  Bullets 
cracked  above  his  head.  The  French  were  pressing 
very  close.  He  looked  up  to  see  his  officer  standing 
behind  him,  rose  at  his  word. 

*'Kellner,  you  are  in  command  of  this  squad  I 
There  will  be  no  retreat.  You  will  die  at  your 
post!" 

Hans  Kellner  saluted. 


40  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

**Zu  Befehl,  Herr  LeutnantP*  he  said  simply. 

The  officer  passed  on. 

Suddenly  Kellner  thought  he  saw  shadowy  fig- 
ures advancing  across  the  field  in  front  of  him.  He 
steadied  himself  into  a  firing  position  after  one 
brief  glance  behind  him,  where,  he  thanked  God, 
the  fire  in  the  farmhouse  had  died  down  into  dark- 
ness. He  pulled  trigger  with  the  rest  in  one  long, 
irregular  volley  from  the  company  stretched  far  to 
right  and  left  of  him.  The  spurts  of  flame,  the  rapid 
detonations  continued,  were  supported  by  the  quick, 
loud  hammering  of  a  machine  gun ;  were  answered 
by  similar  spurts,  similar  detonations  from  the  dark- 
ness in  front.  After  a  few  minutes  the  tumult  sub- 
sided.   Single  shots  preceded  an  uncanny  silence. 

In  that  silence  Hans  Kellner  suddenly  jumped  with 
superstitious  terror.  A  voice  wailed  mournfully 
"Marie-Louise!  Marie-Louise!'*  in  a  long-drawn 
cry.  He  half  raised  himself,  glanced  back  at  the 
farmhouse.  A  bright  glow  rose  from  it.  With 
the  first  hostile  shot  he  understood  in  a  flash  that  he 
was  fatally  silhouetted. 

The  victorious  Frenchmen  surging  over  the 
wrecked  stables  into  the  courtyard  found  an  insane 
old  woman  raking  among  a  heap  of  embers  seeking 
Marie-Louise. 


II 

IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE 

THE  bombardment  had  already  lasted  nearly  a 
week.  In  the  deep  dugout  that  harboured  the 
headquarters  of  a  regiment  ^  defending  a  sector  of 
the  Front  its  continuing  fury  arrived  merely  as  a  suc- 
cession of  jarring  thuds  that  jangled  the  after-lunch 
liqueur  glasses  on  the  rough  table  and  imparted  a 
quiver  to  the  chairs  occupied  by  the  members  of 
the  mess.  To  touch  the  boarded  walls  was  to  re- 
ceive an  unpleasant,  almost  painful,  vibration.  The 
glowing  electric-light  bulb  pendent  from  the  steel- 
girded  roof  shone  steadily,  despite  those  heavier 
shocks  that  punctuated  irregularly  the  steady  series 
of  muffled  blows. 

The  atmosphere  was  hot  with  the  radiation  from 
a  closed  stove  in  a  corner,  and  thick  with  tobacco 
smoke.  Through  the  wreathing,  slowly  drifting 
fumes  could  be  seen  the  large  maps,  crisscrossed  with 
an  infinity  of  lines — red  here,  blue  there — and  di- 
vided into  prominently  numbered  squares,  which  cov- 
ered the  walls. 

The  regiment  commander,  whose  sallow,  deeply 

*The  German  infantry  brigade  is  composed  of  two  regiments 
of  three  battalions  each ;  two  brigades  to  a  division. 

41 


42  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

lined  face  revealed  the  ravage  of  present  anxieties 
upon  a  man  as  old  as  the  whiteness  of  his  moustache 
and  eyebrows  indicated  him  to  be,  broke  off  from  a 
brooding  contemplation  of  those  maps  and  leaned 
forward  to  pour  himself  out  some  more  coffee.  The 
Iron  Cross  dangling  from  the  middle  buttonhole  of 
his  tunic  tinkled  against  his  empty  liqueur  glass.  He 
refilled  both  coffee  cup  and  glass  with  a  hand  that 
shook. 

The  two  other  occupants  of  the  dugout,  a  staff 
captain  and  a  young  lieutenant,  were  absorbed  in 
the  latest  batch  of  illustrated  papers. 

There  was  the  noise  of  footsteps  stumblingly  de- 
scending the  steep  stairway  of  the  dugout,  and  the 
door  opened.  A  tall  officer  in  a  long  coat  yellow 
with  mud  stood  stiffly  erect  at  the  entrance  and 
saluted  with  a  swift,  precise  gesture  and  a  click  of 
heels. 

"Hauptmann  Hofmeisterl"  he  barked  out. 

The  regiment  commander,  who  had  been  peering 
toward  him  through  the  filmy  tobacco  smoke,  drew 
himself  erect  also,  and  with  an  exactly  similar  in- 
tonation replied: 

"Oberst  von  Forsterl" 

The  staff  captain  had  jumped  up  so  hastily  from 
his  chair  that  it  fell  about  his  legs. 

**Lieher  Hofmeister  I"  he  cried,  shaking  the  new- 
comer by  the  hand.  "We  were  expecting  you.  Are 
you  quite  recovered  from  your  wound?"    He  turned 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  4^ 

to  the  colonel.  "Hofmeister  and  I  were  in  the  same 
regiment  on  the  Somme,  Herr  Oberst."  ~ 

The  Oberst  nodded  and  extended  his  hand  to  the 
new  arrival. 

"You  come  at  a  difficult  moment,  Hauptmann 
Hofmeister.  Sit  down!  Have  you  eaten?  Wal- 
dow 1" 

The  young  lieutenant  was  already  halfway  to 
the  door.  Hofmeister  stopped  him.  *T  had  Mit- 
tagessen  with  the  division,"  he  said.  "They  told 
me  something  of  the  situation,  Herr  Oberst." 

"They  didn't  say  the  brigade  was  being  relieved?" 
asked  the  colonel,  clutching  at  a  phantasm  of  hope 
that  flitted  across  his  anxieties. 

Hofmeister  shook  his  head.  "No,  Herr  Oberst. 
The  brigade  will  not  be  relieved  until  after  the  Eng- 
enders have  made  their  attack." 

Oberst  von  Forster  performed  a  little  gesture  in 
which  both  his  hands  and  his  head  were  expressive 
of  his  relapse  to  pessimism. 

"I  hope  they  will  find  something  to  relieve  in  that 
case,"  he  said  bitterly.  ''Ach!  Those  people  who 
sit  back  there  in  safety!  Well,  you  come  to  us  and 
Grenzmann  goes  back  to  the  division.  And  I  hope, 
Grenzmann,  that  you'll  give  them  an  idea  of  the 
sort  of  existence  we  lead  here." 

Grenzmann  nodded. 

''Naturlich,  Herr  Oberst,"  he  said  cheerfully, 
fixing  already  in  his  mind  the  picture  of  the  grum- 


44  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

bling,  doddering  old  colonel  with  which  he  meant 
to  regale  the  divisional  mess. 

"Now,  Hofmeister,"  said  the  Oberst,  "since  you 
have  already  eaten  let  us  get  to  work.  They  told 
you  at  divisional  headquarters  that  we  are  expecting 
an  attack — a  big  attack?" 

He  emphasised  the  largeness  of  the  menace.  His 
face  looked  startlingly  haggard,  close  under  the 
electric  light.  *This  new  Siegfried  Line" — the  new 
line  from  the  Aisne  to  the  north  of  Arras,  taken 
up  by  the  Germans  last  spring,  was  called  by  them 
the  Siegfried  Line,  by  the  English  the  Hindenburg 
Line — "will  be  tested  to  the  utmost — and  we  shall 
see  if  it  is  as  strong  as  they  make  out.  I  am  con- 
fident in  it  myself" — he  stopped — "if  only  we  have 
enough  troops  to  hold  it.    If  it  breaks " 

He  stopped  again,  sketched  an  expressive  little 
gesture.  "We  have  a  battalion  in  front  line,  the 
others  in  support.  Show  him  the  positions  on  the 
map,  Grenzmann." 

He  waited  while  the  two  officers  obeyed,  poring 
over  the  trench  map,  murmuring  together.  As  they 
straightened  their  backs  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door  of  the  dugout. 

** Herein!'*  said  the  Oberst,  putting  down  his 
liqueur  glass. 

A  signal  orderly  entered.  He  held  out  a  tele- 
gram. Grenzmann  took  it,  opened  it  with  a  quick 
movement,  glanced  at  the  message. 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  45 

"From  the  forward  battalion,  Herr  Oberst — ^by 
telephone,  priority — ^they're  asking  again  to  be  re- 
lieved  " 

He  passed  the  message  across  to  the  regiment 
commander.  "They're  having  a  bad  time,"  he  added 
confidentially  to  Hofmeister.  "That's  the  third 
time  in  twenty-four  hours  they  have  asked  for  re- 
lief/' 

Oberst  von  Forster  wrinkled  his  brows  over  the 
message.  ^'Schrecklich,  schrecklich/^  he  muttered; 
"but  what  can  I  do?  We  must  not  be  caught  mov- 
ing I    We  must  not  be  caught!" 

He  frowned  at  the  words,  which  despite  their  of- 
ficial formality  were  eloquent  of  the  agonised  despair 
that  had  spoken  at  the  other  end  of  the  telephone. 

"  ^Disclaim  responsibility  if  disaster  occurs  to  the 
sector' — ^yes,  they  throw  It  on  me — ^they  throw  it 
on  me." 

He  stood  for  some  moments  bending  over  the 
paper,  then  he  suddenly  drew  himself  erect.  "I 
must  see  for  myself."  There  was  a  new  tone  of 
decision  in  his  voice.  "Hofmeister — I  am  going 
up  to  the  front  line.  Come  with  me  I  You  will  be 
able  to  familiarise  yourself  with  the  situation." 

Hauptmann  Hofmeister  saluted  with  stiff  pre- 
cision and  stood  rigid. 

''Zu  Befehl,  Herr  Oberst." 

"You,  Waldow — ^you  come  too;  and  Grenzmann, 
you  remain  here — deal  with  anything  that  comes 
in." 


46  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  old  man,  long  oppressed  by  the  imagined 
possibilities  over  which  he  brooded  in  the  pent  seclu- 
sion of  the  dugout,  was  unfeignedly  glad  at  the 
prospect  of  escape  into  the  open  air.  Swiftly  he 
donned  his  long  coat,  looked  to  his  automatic  pistol 
and  emergency  ration,  slung  over  his  shoulder  the 
strap  of  the  slate-grey  cylindrical  tin  box  that  held 
his  gas  mask. 

"Hurry,  Waldow!"  he  said  to  the  lieutenant, 
who  was  busily  engaged  in  similar  preparations. 
"Where's  my  steel  helmet?"  He  hummed  a  bar 
or  two  of  a  song  in  a  cheerful  key.  "We'll  teach 
these  damned  Englanders,  Hofmeister!"  he  said 
with  a  little  laugh.  "They'll  never  get  a  yard  of 
the  Siegfried  Line  I  Not  they!"  He  was  reassur- 
ing himself  more  than  his  hearers.  "You  know 
the  idea  of  it,  Hofmeister?  Not  like  the  Somme 
days.  No  I  Das  war  schrecklichf  schreckUch! 
Trying  to  hold  those  front  trenches — we  played 
their  game  I  But  now  these  deep  defensive  zones — 
full  of  cunning  bits  of  trenches  and  hidden  machine 
guns — if  they  got  in  to  them  they  will  be  killed  to 
the  last  man,  or  what  is  left  of  them  will  be  driven 
back  to  their  own  lines.  Ein  grosser  Geist — Hin- 
denburg!  Ein  grosser  Geist  fUr  die  grosse  Zeit! 
'S  wird  ein  famoser  Sieg  seinf  J  a — gewiss — gewissJ' 

He  hummed  a  bar  or  two  of  the  song  the  Ger- 
man soldiers  had  sung  when  they  marched  to  war 
in  the  brave  days  of  1914:  '' Tuppchenf  du  hist 
mein'    Augen    Schatz '     Come,    Hofmeister  I 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  47 

Waldow!  Fertig?  ForwdrtsT*  He  laughed,  ex- 
cited as  a  schoolboy,  his  haggard,  sallow  face  pur- 
pling with  blood,  his  eyes  alight  under  the  bushy 
white  eyebrows.  *^Dank*  set  Gott  we  get  out  of  this 
damned  hole  I"  He  led  the  way  out  of  the  dug- 
out. 

"We  shall  probably  be  glad  enough  to  get  back 
to  it,"  murmured  the  young  lieutenant  as  he  fol- 
lowed him. 

Outside  the  dugout  an  electric  light  illumined  the 
passage  that  communicated  with  the  signal  and  office 
apartments  of  the  subterranean  headquarters.  Two 
or  three  orderlies  on  duty  sprang  to  erect  rigidity 
as  the  regiment  commander  passed. 

He  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  steep  narrow 
stairway,  slippery  with  yellow  mud.  Hofmeister 
and  Waldow  followed  at  his  heels.  The  deep  steel 
helmets  curving  down  to  the  neck  lent  their  heads  a 
quaint  touch  of  the  antique.  Von  Forster  had  but 
half  emerged  into  the  chilly  atmosphere  of  an  over- 
cast afternoon  when  he  stopped,  with  the  instinctive 
paralysis  of  imminent  danger.  A  long-drawn  whine 
broadened  rapidly  to  a  threatening  rush  in  the  air; 
approached,  passed  and  culminated  in  a  heavy,  me- 
tallic crash  in  the  instant  in  which  he  ducked  his 
head. 

''Verfluchte  EngldnderT  muttered  Von  Waldow 
below  him. 

The  three  men  paused  until  the  rain  of  earth 
clods  and  debris  had  ceased.     Then  they  emerged 


48  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

from  the  stairway.  The  black  smoke  from  the  just- 
burst  shell  drifted  over  a  near  prospect  of  hoof- 
holed  mud,  tumbled  bricks  and  protruding  rafters. 
The  headquarters  dugouts  were  excavated  on  the 
site  of  a  ruined  farm.  Farther  away,  beyond  the 
puddled  morass  which  was  a  road,  a  battery  of 
field  guns — each  weapon  hidden  in  an  emplacement 
of  mud  merging  with  the  desolate  expanse  of  mud 
across  which  they  were  spaced — banged  away  rap- 
idly, the  spurt  of  flame  vivid  against  the  low  grey 
sky.  Their  muzzles  pointed  westward  to  where  a 
long  featureless  ridge,  not  far  distant,  rose  darkly, 
to  contrast  with  a  band  of  light  that  just  hinted  at 
the  afternoon  sun  behind  the  clouds. 

Against  the  illumination,  founts  of  black  smoke 
sprang  up  from  the  summit  of  the  ridge  in  a  wide- 
stretched  simultaneity  of  appearance,  incessantly  re- 
newed, that  baffled  the  attempt  to  count,  climbed  yet 
a  little,  and  hung  poised  before  they  broke  and 
drifted,  formlessly  and  thinning.  Shrapnel,  white 
and  heavy  black,  dotted  the  ridge  horizon  In  magic- 
ally reinforced  handfuls.  Over  the  hinterland  be- 
tween the  battery  and  the  high  ground  the  brown  and 
black  smoke  of  other  shell  bursts  shot  up  from  a 
score  of  places  at  once.  Far  and  near  over  that 
cloud-hung  wilderness  a  scintillation  of  quick,  short 
gun  flashes  betrayed  the  positions  of  German  bat- 
teries otherwise  Invisible. 

The  world  was  full  of  noise.  Close  at  hand  the 
yiolent  rapid  reports  of  the  field  battery,  furiously 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  49 

at  work,  blotted,  as  it  were,  momentarily  the  chaos 
of  heavy  sound  that  rolled,  reverberating,  between 
unexpected  and  confused  climaxes  of  coincident 
salvos.  From  behind  came  the  gruff  double  thud  of 
the  German  howitzers,  overpowered  from  instant  to* 
instant  by  the  loud,  sharp  detonation  of  a  heavy 
gun.  In  the  air  above  was  a  continual  rushing  of 
shells,  those  of  large  calibre  rumbling  onward  like 
a  laden  tramcar,  the  smaller  projectiles  fiercely  sibi- 
lant, varied  by  a  banshee  howl  where  a  driving  band 
had  torn  loose.  Far  away  to  the  west  the  continu- 
ous discharges  of  the  English  guns  were  an  under- 
tone of  muttered  thunder.  The  detonations  of  shell 
bursts  and  trench-mortar  bombs  upon  the  ridge  were 
indistinguishable  in  the  welter  of  slam  and  crash  and 
rumbling  broken  roars  that  rolled  under  the  low 
sky. 

The  colonel  stood  for  a  moment  contemplating 
the  scene,  with  the  narrowed  eyes  and  bent  brow  of 
a  seaman  who  endeavours  to  estimate  the  fury  of  a 
coming  storm.  The  new  staff  captain  gazed  also, 
fixing  the  lie  of  the  land  by  glanced  references  to 
his  map.  The  lieutenant  stood  nervously  biting  his 
lower  lip,  the  muscles  of  his  face  quivering,  his  knees 
shaking  despite  an  effort  of  his  will.  This  was  no 
good  place  to  loiter  in  the  open. 

His  apprehensive  brain,  agonisedly  alert  for  the 
definite  sound,  identified  in  a  spasm  of  hyperacute 
faculty  a  scarce  distinguishable  distant  pop  I  among 
the  uproar. 


50  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Here  it  comes !"  he  cried. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then,  distinct  among  all 
the  other  sounds,  the  whine  of  a  rapidly  approaching 
shell  detached  itself,  coming  straight  toward  them. 
Like  one  man  they  flung  themselves  flat  upon  the  mud 
in  the  instant  that  it  rushed  to  the  deafening  crash 
of  its  explosion.  Face  downward,  they  heard  the 
continued  fall  of  the  upcast  debris,  the  whine  of  its 
splintered  fragments.     Mud  rained  upon  them. 

The  colonel  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Hurry  I''  he  said.    "There  will  be  another." 

The  others  followed  him  as  he  hastened  toward 
the  puddled  road  and  turned  along  it.  The  deep 
mud  sucked  at  their  boots  and  splashed,  liquid,  to 
their  knees.  They  plunged  onward,  desperately  at 
strain  to  get  away  from  the  danger  spot.  A  little 
farther  on,  where  the  road  sank  below  the  level  of 
the  land,  a  communication  trench  opened  into  it  on 
the  right.  A  signboard  all  askew  named  it — Si^es- 
Allee.  They  dived  into  it  just  as  the  whine  and  rush 
and  crash  of  the  expected  shell  emphasised  the  ne- 
cessity for  their  haste. 

The  trench  was  deep  and  wide,  excavated  on  a 
trace  not  of  sharp  angles  but  of  serpentine  curves. 
The  rails  of  a  miniature  tramway  followed  its  shel- 
ter. The  three  officers  stepped  from  one  to  another 
of  the  metal  sleepers  that  squelched  beneath  them 
in  the  liquid  mud.  A  few  hundred  yards  along  the 
trench  they  overtook  a  stationary  train  of  four 
trucks,  a  midget  petrol  engine  at  the  head.     The 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  51 

Unteroffizier  In  charge  stood  up  quickly  from  his 
conversation  with  the  driver  perched  upon  the 
quaintly  small  tractor.  He  saluted  at  the  approach 
of  the  regiment  commander. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  this  ammunition?" 
asked  Von  Forster  angrily.  "Why  are  you 
stopped?" 

The  man  shrank  and  stammered. 

**Die — die  Granaten — Herr  OberstI" 

The  colonePs  rage  leaped  to  fury. 

"Shells  I  Dummes  ZeugT  He  slashed  the  man 
across  the  head  with  his  trench  stick.  "This  ammu- 
nition Is  urgently  required.  Auf!  Vorwarts!  And 
don^t  stop  till  I  tell  you!"  He  clambered  onto  the 
truck,  behind  the  tractor,  Hofmelster  and  Von  Wal- 
dow  imitating  him,  and  sat  on  the  stack  of  ammuni- 
tion boxes.  The  frightened  driver  started  his  en- 
gine, and  as  the  train  commenced  to  move  squeal- 
ingly  and  slowly  onward  the  Unteroffizier  sprang 
onto  the  rear  truck. 

"Report  yourself  under  arrest  I"  Von  Forster 
shouted  at  him.  "The  men  in  the  trenches  might  be 
dying  for  lack  of  this  ammunition  to-night,"  he 
added  to  Hofmelster.  "We  have  had  terrible  diffi- 
culty In  getting  up  supplies  this  last  week." 

The  little  train  rattled  and  squealed  and  jolted 
along  the  trench,  moving  at  a  fair  pace.  The  high 
earth  walls  permitted  no  vision  of  the  countryside; 
but  the  constant  overhead  scream  of  shells,  the  ever- 
recurring  crashes,  were  a  stimulus  to  the  imagination. 


52  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Every  few  minutes  a  ball  of  white  smoke  jumped 
into  the  near  air  with  a  sharp  detonation,  and  occa- 
sionally shrapnel  bullets  hammered  on  the  trucks. 
Still  they  went  on. 

Once,  looking  up,  they  perceived  an  aeroplane  low 
down  in  the  sky. 

*'Brave  fellow,  that!"  shouted  Von  Forster  above 
the  deafening  noise  of  the  tractor.  He  followed  it 
with  his  eyes.  It  swerved  and  swooped  toward  them. 
With  a  cry  he  pointed  to  the  red  and  blue  circles 
on  its  wings.  "English!"  Immediately  they  saw 
faint  spurts  near  its  propeller,  heard  the  distinct 
raps  of  its  machine  gun.  Flicks  of  earth  leaped  up 
along  the  top  of  the  trench  wall ;  there  were  splashes 
in  the  water  ahead.  The  driver  turned  a  scared  face 
to  the  colonel. 

"On!  On!"  shouted  Von  Forster. 

The  driver  put  on  his  best  speed.  The  train 
rocked  and  roared  in  the  narrow  passage.  Look- 
ing up,  they  saw  puff  after  puff  of  shrapnel  burst 
round  the  aeroplane.  It  climbed  and  headed  for 
home.    They  rushed  onward.    The  minutes  passed. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  appalling  hiss,  a  deafening 
explosion  in  the  bend  just  ahead  of  them.  Another 
followed  it,  and  another.  Black  smoke  rolled  down 
on  them,  blotting  out  vision.  The  brakes  squealed, 
responding  to  the  apprehension  of  the  driver,  as  the 
train  rounded  the  corner.  Explosion  followed  ex- 
plosion in  the  mass  of  smoke.  The  aeroplane  had 
reported  to  its  battery. 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  33 

The  train  stopped  with  a  fierce  jerk.  It  had  run 
into  the  fallen-in  walls  of  the  trench.  The  driver 
sank  over  his  tractor,  killed  by  a  flying  fragment. 
The  others  sprang  off. 

"Remain  with  the  ammunition!"  shouted  Von 
Forster  to  the  N.  C.  O.  He  himself,  followed  by 
his  officers,  ran  crouchingly  back  along  the  train  and 
clambered  out  of  the  trench.  Shell  after  shell 
swooped  down  upon  the  fatal  spot  just  ahead. 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  three  officers  crouched 
among  irregular  heaps  of  sodden,  tumbled  earth. 
The  colonel  looked  at  his  map,  fixed  his  whereabouts. 
Pointing,  he  drew  Hofmeister's  attention  to  a  scarce 
distinguishable  trench  line  on  the  slope  of  the  ridge, 
away  to  the  right.  A  pole  bearing  a  small  notice 
board  stuck  up  in  the  otherwise  featureless  prospect, 
a  little  behind  the  trench. 

"The  support  battalion!*'  he  shouted.  "Battalion 
headquarters  there!"  He  pointed  to  the  notice 
board.  "We  will  go  straight  on — see  them  coming 
back!" 

The  lieutenant,  who  had  dallied  with  a  hope,  fol- 
lowed his  seniors.  The  colonel  made  a  wide  circuit 
round  the  length  of  communication  trench  that  was 
still  being  punished.  More  than  once  they  flung 
themselves  down  to  escape  shells  that  came  with  a 
long  swooping  whine  and  rush,  to  explode  in  their 
vicinity.  The  shrapnel,  that  burst  irregularly  in 
patches  over  the  slope,  could  not  be  avoided.  They 
could  only  pray  for  immunity  and  hope  their  hel- 


54  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

mets  would  resist  a  chance  bullet  on  their  heads. 
The  bombardment  continued  steadily  on  both  sides, 
neither  increasing  nor  diminishing. 

The  summit  of  the  ridge,  still  upspouting  its  foun- 
tains of  black  smoke  and  canopied  with  drifting 
shrapnel  puffs,  was  an  empty  desolation  at  this  nearer 
view.  The  continuous  detonations  of  the  explosives 
that  hailed  upon  it  were  now  the  chief  feature  in  the 
bewildering  volume  of  noise  that  was  incessantly 
reinforced  from  near  and  far. 

Another  shell  rushed  over  their  heads,  finished 
with  a  soft  thud  in  the  earth — "A  *dud'  I"  cried  the 
colonel,  with  a  laugh  of  relief.     Another  followed, 

finished  with  similar  softness No!    All  three 

glanced  behind  them  in  sudden  alarm  as  the  third 
and  fourth  shells  terminated  their  careers  with  the 
same  quiet  thuds.  A  light  cloud  of  dense  vapour 
was  creeping  low  upon  the  ground,  extending  lat- 
erally as  shell  after  shell  pitched  to  feed  It.  The 
wind  was  northeasterly,  behind  them,  and  brought 
them  a  peculiar  odour. 

"Quick,  Herr  Oberst  I'*  Hofmesiter  unbuckled  the 
lid  of  his  chief's  gas-mask  box,  and  then  his  own. 
Von  Waldow  wanted  no  urging.  The  three  of  them 
fitted  the  masks  under  their  helmets,  looking  curi- 
ously porcine  with  the  protruding  tin  snouts.  Then 
they  ran,  slowly  but  with  immense  effort,  over  the 
yielding  shell-torn  ground,  stumbling  over  inequali- 
'^ies  dimly  perceived  through  the  celluloid  goggles  of 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  55 

the  masks.  The  gas  drifted  round  them  as  they 
ran. 

They  tripped  over  a  party  of  prone  men  lying 
in  odd  attitudes,  fresh  blood  upon  their  faces  and 
oozing  through  the  grey  cloth  of  their  backs.  Boxes 
of  stores  lay  round  them,  scattered  and  broken.  It 
was  a  fatigue  party,  caught  by  shrapnel.  One  man 
half  raised  himself,  moved  an  arm.  The  gas  drifted 
over  them.    The  officers  ran  on. 

They  dropped  into  the  communication  trench,  here 
badly  destroyed,  and  dodged  from  hollow  to  hollow 
of  the  wet,  crumbling  earth,  following  its  trace.  On 
either  hand  the  rush  and  shattering  crash  of  arriv- 
ing shells  were  the  accompaniment  of  each  instant. 
The  shrapnel  overhead  was  an  imminent  peril,  mirac- 
ulously escaped  from  moment  to  moment.  The  Brit- 
ish were  putting  down  a  barrage,  not  very  intense 
but  extremely  dangerous,  behind  the  front  lines. 

The  pale  gas  cloud  drifted  over  a  wide  area,  look- 
ing like  the  low  mist  on  a  wet  field  at  evening. 

The  entrances  of  other  wrecked  trenches  opened 
to  right  and  left  of  them.  All  were  deserted.  Save 
the  stricken  ration  party,  they  saw  no  one.  Sud- 
denly the  Oberst  turned  to  the  right,  dived  along  a 
lateral  passage  and  stopped  where  a  man  crouched 
in  a  low,  dark,  timber-supported  hole. 

He  pushed  the  man  aside,  slipped  in  and  de- 
scended many  steep,  slippery  steps.  The  others  fol- 
lowed him.  They  found  themselves  in  a  small  square 
dugout  illuminated  by  a  candle.    The  walls  and  roof 


56  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

were  supported  by  balks  of  heavy  timber.  A  rough 
table  was  in  the  middle,  telephone  instrument  upon 
it.  Several  ammunition  boxes  served  for  seats.  Pick 
and  shovel  rested  against  the  wall.  Two  men  rose 
to  their  feet  as  the  colonel  entered.  They  were 
plastered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot.  Their  hag- 
gard eyes  looked  out  of  faces  that  had  been  neither 
washed  nor  shaved  for  many  days.  Both  saluted 
punctiliously.  Von  Forster  sank,  exhausted,  onto  a 
seat.  He  nodded  faintly  as  he  removed  his  mask. 
The  two  others  also  divested  themselves  of  their  gro- 
tesque headgear.    Von  Waldow  proffered  his  flask. 

Refreshed,  the  colonel  looked  about  him. 

**I  came  to  see  for  myself,  major,"  he  said.  "You 
are  having  a  bad  time?" 

**SchreckUchr*  replied  the  battalion  commander. 
"We  have  scarcely  three  hundred  left.  This  is  Lieu- 
tenant Stein,  Herr  Oberst — acting  adjutant;  pool* 
Kaunitz  has  been  killed." 

The  colonel  nodded. 

"This  is  Hauptmann  Hofmeister — he  replaces 
Grenzmann,  who  goes  back  to  the  division.  I 
brought  him  up  to  see  how  things  stand." 

Hofmeister  saluted. 

"If  only  we  had  more  men,  Herr  Oberst  I"  said 
the  battalion  commander.  "We  ought  to  be  relieved 
— replaced  by  two  or  three  fresh  battalions.  We 
want  a  division  where  we  have  barely  a  brigade. 
Surely  we  have  enough  troops?" 

"There  are  masses  of  them   somewhere   in  the 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  57 

rear,"  replied  Von  Forster.  "They  are  keeping 
them  for  the  counterattack.    We  must  do  our  best." 

Hofmeister  spoke  to  the  adjutant. 

"Is  the  shellfire  at  its  height?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Herr  Hauptmann,  it  has  slackened — par- 
ticularly on  the  forward  positions." 

"I  should  like  to  see  them.    Is  it  possible?" 

"We  can  try,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

"You  permit,  Herr  Oberst?" 

"Certainly — certainly." 

Lieutenant  Stein  donned  his  steel  helmet. 

The  afternoon  was  drawing  toward  dusk,  but 
there  was  still  plenty  of  light  as  they  emerged  into 
the  wrecked  trench. 

Lieutenant  Stein  led  the  way  over  the  soft  shell- 
heaped  masses  of  crumbHng  earth,  heading  toward 
the  summit  of  the  ridge.  They  went  crouchingly, 
now  stumbling  forward  onto  their  hands,  now  sink- 
ing up  to  their  knees.  The  shells  continued  to  ar- 
rive, upflinging  brown  mud  with  the  black  smoke  or 
stopping  short  in  the  air  with  a  sudden  apparition  of 
white  cotton  wool,  lit  momentarily  by  a  red  flash, 
that  floated  lazily.  But  it  was  no  longer  the  intense 
bombardment  of  a  little  time  ago,  and  movement, 
though  risky,  was  possible.  Stein  went  diagonally 
to  his  right  front,  where  a  more  or  less  prolonged 
depression  among  the  shell  holes  indicated  the  site 
of  a  trench.  A  party  of  men,  not  readily  distin- 
guishable in  their  mud-caked  grey,  were  shovelling 


58  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

at  a  mass  of  churned  earth.  The  two  officers  ap- 
proached them. 

"Dugout  blown  In,  Herr  Lieutenant,"  said  the 
Unteroffizier  in  charge.  The  men  looked  up,  their 
faces  pinched  and  drawn,  indescribably  dirty  and 
miserable.     They  shovelled  doggedly. 

Hofmeister  asked  a  question  of  his  guide. 

"We  have  a  company  here  flanking  this  area," 
replied  Stein;  "Oberlieutenant  Schwarz  in  com- 
mand." 

Hofmeister  glanced  across  the  shell-torn  stretch 
menaced  by  this  ruined  trench,  ere  they  dropped  into 
the  depression  and  followed  it.  Encouraged  by  the 
diminution  of  the  bombardment  men  were  emerg- 
ing from  their  holes  of  refuge,  appearing  mysteri- 
ously as  from  nowhere  among  the  heaps  of  earth. 
They  carried  spades,  and  N.  C.  O.'s  set  them  to  re- 
bank  the  parapet  and  to  clear  away  the  debris  from 
machine-gun  emplacements. 

An  officer  approached.  It  was  the  lieutenant  in 
command  of  the  company.  Hofmeister  introduced 
himself. 

"Can't  you  arrange  to  get  up  some  kind  of  ra- 
tions?" asked  the  company  commander  querulously. 
"My  men  are  starving.  They  have  had  scarcely  any- 
thing to  eat  for  three  days.  How  can  they  fight?  It 
is  scandalous,  the  way  we  are  left — scandalous  1" 
He  glared  at  Hofmeister  as  though  charging  him 
with  personal  responsibility,  careless  of  his  superior 
rank. 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  59 

Hofmeister  promised  to  do  what  he  could. 

"The  casualties  too!"  continued  Oberlieutenant 
Schwarz.  "Why  is  an  effort  not  made  to  get  them 
away?    Come  and  see?" 

He  led  the  staff  captain  along  the  trench  to  the 
entrance  of  a  deep  dugout.  Hofmeister  descended, 
found  himself  in  a  large  excavated  chamber  lit  by 
an  acetylene  flare — and  recoiled  suddenly.  The 
stench  was  insupportable.  The  floor  was  carpeted 
with  supine  bodies,  bandaged  in  all  fashions.  The 
doctor  came  toward  him,  stepping  carefully  among 
the  stricken  men. 

"Ah I  You  have  come  to  evacuate?"  he  cried. 
His  face  fell  at  Hofmeister^s  negative  shake  of  the 
head.  "No  I  But,  lieher  Hauptmann,  this  state  of 
things  is  impossible — unerhort!  We  must  get  them 
away !  Some  of  them  have  been  here  for  four  days. 
I  have  no  more  room.  What  will  happen  when  the 
attack  comes?" 

Hauptmann  Hofmeister  shrugged  his  shoulders — 
hedauerte, 

"Regret  1"  cried  the  doctor.  "It  is  easy  to  re- 
gret I  These  men  are  dying — German  soldiers,  dying 
in  their  filth.  Is  this  the  glory  that  you  promised 
them,  the  joy  of  dying  for  the  Fatherland  that  you 
war  makers  prate  of?  I  tell  you" — he  shook  his 
fist  in  the  staff  captain's  face — "you  brought  about 
this  misery  deliberately — you  prolong  it  in  your 
vain  blind  gamble  for  an  impossible  victory — it  is 
your  duty  to  relieve  it — to  relieve  it  at  once !" 


60  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"You  are  overwrought,  Herr  Doctor,"  said  Hof- 
meister.    "You  want  a  rest.'* 

"Overwrought?"  The  doctor  laughed  like  a 
maniac.  "Look  at  it  I  Look  at  it  I  I  live  in  this 
night  and  day,  and  ever  more  are  coming  I  A  rest? 
Yes,  that  is  what  we  all  want,  a  rest  from  this  fiend- 
ish murder  you  continue " 

He  clutched  vainly  at  the  staff  captain's  coat  as 
Hofmeister  shrugged  his  shoulders  once  more  and 
went  quickly  up  the  stairs  of  the  dugout. 

"As  if  I  was  responsible  I"  he  said  to  Stein,  who 
had  stood  behind  him.  "As  if  I  also  am  not  sick  to 
death  of  it  all !  I  shall  be  glad  when  the  Englanders 
attack.    Perhaps  there  will  be  an  end  of  it  then." 

The  adjutant  took  him  from  point  to  point  of  the 
position,  crawling  and  floundering  from  shell  hole  to 
shell  hole.  Here  and  there  a  short  length  of  dam- 
aged trench  was  being  repaired,  but  the  major  por- 
tion of  the  defence  was  organised  in  shell  craters 
wherein  lurked  little  groups  of  men  about  a  machine 
gun.  Some  of  these  craters  were  open  to  the  sky, 
but  many  were  covered  with  circular  lids  of  camou- 
flage, imitating  brown  earth  and  sometimes  water, 
that  should  baffle  the  eyes  of  the  airmen  spying  out 
the  defences.  One  stumbled  on  these  positions  with- 
out remarking  them,  so  cunningly  were  they  devised. 
At  the  critical  moment  these  lids  would  lift  just  a 
little  and  a  machine  gun  would  peep  forth. 

In  this  slackening  of  the  bombardment  a  surpris- 
ing number  of  grey  figures,  miraculously  surviving 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  61 

in  this  featureless  chaos  of  tumbled  earth,  could  just 
be  discerned,  head  and  shoulders,  upon  the  summit 
of  the  ridge,  desperately  at  toil  to  cast  up  a  better 
shelter  for  themselves  against  the  fiercer  storm  that 
was  surely  coming.  About  their  feet  lay  the  bodies 
of  those  who  had  finished  with  war.  The  water  in 
the  shell  holes,  dissolving  rust  from  submerged  ob- 
jects, was  red  as  with  their  blood. 

Cautiously  in  the  gathering  dusk  Hofmeister  and 
the  adjutant  crept  forward  to  where  the  dense  masses 
of  rusty  barbed  wire  lay  beaten  down  from  stake  to 
stake.  There  had  been  a  front-line  trench  here  once 
— it  was  now  obliterated  in  the  complete  devasta- 
tion of  shell  craters  linked  rim  to  rim.  Lookout  men 
lurked  in  them  here  and  there. 

From  one  of  these  craters  the  two  officers  peered 
stealthily  toward  the  English  lines.  The  nearer  part 
of  the  No  Man's  Land  was  freshly  scarred  with 
shells  that  had  dropped  short.  Farther  away  the 
long  rank  grass  still  grew,  was  thicker  as  it  ap- 
proached the  British  wire,  which  it  all  but  hid. 

"Do  you  see?**  said  Stein,  nudging  his  companion. 
"It  is  already  cut.     There — and  there!" 

It  was  just  possible  to  make  out  where  lanes  had 
been  cut  through  the  entanglement,  though  the  tall 
grass  still  waved  above  the  stakes.  Beyond  it  the 
rough  earth  and  sandbag  wall  of  the  British  parapet 
stretched  in  front  of  them,  almost  intact,  following 
the  contour  of  the  land  until  it  disappeared  into  the 
mist  on  the  right  and  the  left.    It  was  quiet,  appar- 


62  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ently  deserted.  Far  behind  it  a  patch  of  green  field 
was  just  visible  in  the  fading  light.  A  desultory  can- 
nonade from  both  sides  boomed  and  slammed  spas- 
modically. By  contrast  with  the  preceding  bom- 
bardment the  world  seemed  peaceful. 

A  rifle  spoke  from  the  opposing  trench.  The  two 
officers  ducked.  A  machine  gun  commenced  to  ham- 
mer out  short  interrupted  bursts  of  fire,  traversing 
the  crater  field,  its  bullets  cracking  above  their  heads 
as  they  cowered  in  the  watery  mud  of  their  hole. 
It  ceased.  With  infinite  precautions  they  crawled  out 
and  stole  backward  toward  the  battalion  head- 
quarters. 

Ssss  I  Ssss !  Ssss  I  Ssss ! — a  group  of  shells  rushed 
to  burst  in  quick  succession  on  the  ground  about 
them.  Another  series  followed  ere  the  detonations 
of  the  first  had  ceased.  From  behind  came  the  rapid 
slamming  of  English  guns,  merging  far  and  wide  into 
one  long-continued  thudding  beat,  half-obscured  by 
near  explosions. 

"Hurry,  Herr  Hauptmann!"  cried  the  adjutant. 
"The  bombardment  has  started  again!" 

They  ran,  desperately  straining  to  get  over  the 
soft  ground.  About  them,  in  the  failing  light  now 
fitfully  intensified  by  faint  flashes,  they  saw  grey- 
clad  figures  dashing  to  cover.  Crash  after  crash 
shook  earth  and  heaven.  Black  smoke  drifted  over 
them.  The  reek  of  burnt  explosive  filled  their  nos- 
trils, caught  their  breath.  Wild  flights  of  shells 
raced  overhead,  to  burst  far  beyond,  flight  upon 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  63 

flight.     Rockets,  red  and  white,  shot  up  into  the 
sky  from  all  along  the  ridge. 

Panting,  feeling  their  continued  existence  to  be  a 
miracle  that  might  be  at  any  moment  terminated, 
they  flung  themselves  into  the  trench  and  rushed  for 
the  headquarters  dugout.  They  threw  themselves 
into  its  aperture  just  as  the  adjacent  earth  went  up 
with  quick  red  flash  and  appalling  roar. 

In  the  dugout  Von  Forster  and  the  battalion  com- 
mander stood  anxiously  behind  an  artillery  observa- 
tion officer  bent  over  the  telephone  instrument  on  the 
table.  He  was  vainly  trying  to  elicit  a  reply.  Lieu- 
tenant von  Waldow  was  absent. 

The  artillery  officer  straightened  himself  and 
sketched  a  hopeless  gesture. 

"The  line  has  gone  again!"  he  cried,  his  voice 
partially  swallowed  by  the  din.  "All  the  lines  are 
broken  I" 

Von  Forster  turned  to  Hofmeister. 

"I  have  sent  Von  Waldow  to  try  to  signal  back — 
these  people  must  be  relieved,"  he  said.  His  face 
was  haggard  with  anxiety,  his  hand  tapped  nerv- 
ously on  the  table. 

"Too  late,  Herr  Oberstl"  said  the  battalion  com- 
mander, sinking  limply  onto  one  of  the  ammunition 
boxes.     "This  is  the  beginning  of  the  end." 

The  Oberst  ignored  him  impatiently. 

"We  must  get  back  ourselves,  Hofmeister.  We 
must  not  be  trapped  here.  We  can  do  nothing- 
nothing  unless  we  get  back  to  headquarters." 


e4  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Impossible,  Herr  Oberst,"  said  Hofmeister. 
"There  is  a  barrage  behind  us." 

"We  must  try — ^try  at  all  costs  I  I  wish  Waldow 
would  come  back  I" 

At  that  moment  the  young  lieutenant  came  slith- 
ering down  the  stairway. 

"It  is  hell  outside— hell!"  he  cried.  "The  sig- 
nailers  are  all  buried.  The  entire  ridge  is  being 
blown  into  the  air  I     The  fire  is  worse  than  ever  I 

I   was  buried  myself Oh,   I   am  wounded  I" 

He  finished  in  a  cry  of  alarm.  His  left  arm  was 
dripping  blood  on  the  floor.  He  rocked  on  his  feet, 
seemed  about  to  faint. 

Hofmeister  ripped  back  the  stricken  man's  tunic, 
produced  a  first-aid  dressing. 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  said,  bandaging  the  arm.  "A 
scratch.  You  will  be  all  right.  A  month  in  Berlin 
for  you." 

"We  shall  all  be  killed,"  gasped  the  young  man, 
terror  in  his  eyes. 

"Just  listen  to  it  I"  cried  the  artillery  officer. 
"These  Englanders  do  know  how  to  put  down  drum 
fire  I" 

Outside,  the  viciously  violent  detonations  followed 
each  other  without  an  instant's  pause,  deafening  the 
ear,  shaking  the  dugout  with  fierce  double  concus- 
sions, seeming  to  rend  the  earth  to  its  core  with  each 
quickly  reiterated  shock.  It  was  obvious  that  noth- 
ing could  live  in  the  open.  The  shelter  of  any  dug- 
out was  precarious.    They  held  their  breath  for  the 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  66 

stunning  roar  that  should  terminate  their  existence. 
All  were  trembling.  The  candle  went  out  repeatedly 
— could  not  be  kept  alight.  Some  one  switched  on 
his  electric  pocket  lamp,  kept  it  shining  across  the 
small  dank  cave.  Darkness  was  insupportable.  Panic 
lurked  in  it,  beating  on  them  with  each  new  shock 
that  crashed  without.  The  sight  of  the  heavy  timber 
balks,  of  the  roof  intact,  preserved  a  faint  confi- 
dence, a  hope  that  was  scarcely  more  than  a  symp- 
tom of  the  desperate  will  to  live. 

The  Oberst  sank  on  a  seat. 

"I  ought  not  to  be  here  I  I  ought  not  to  be  here  !** 
he  cried,  repeating  a  fixed  idea.  "What  will  the 
brigade  say  when  the  attack  comes?  I  am  away 
from  my  post!     I  am  away  from  my  post  I" 

"We  shall  all  be  killed!  We  shall  all  be  killed!" 
moaned  the  staff  lieutenant  as  he  rocked  to  and  fro, 
nursing  his  wounded  arm. 

"Silence!"  shouted  Hofmeister,  glaring  at  him 
with  exasperation. 

"This  is  the  end — the  beginning  of  the  end,"  re- 
peated the  battalion  commander.  "We  ought  to 
have  been  relieved  long  ago." 

"Our  batteries  are  certainly  firing,"  said  the  gun- 
ner officer,  feeling  it  incumbent  on  him  to  say  some- 
thing. 

"How  long  can  they  keep  this  up?"  the  adjutant 
asked  from  the  gloom  behind  the  lamp. 

"All  night,"  replied  the  artillery  officer  grimly. 


66  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"They  will  not  attack  before  dawn,  and  they  will 
keep  it  up  till  then." 

"Awful!  Awful  I"  murmured  the  regiment  com- 
mander. "They  will  walk  right  through.  There 
will  be  nothing  to  stop  them." 

Hofmeister  looked  at  his  watch. 

"In  that  case  we  shall  have  eight  hours  of  it," 
he  said. 

None  answered  him.  All  relapsed  into  a  silence 
while  they  listened  to  the  incessant  crashes,  the  con- 
tinuous succession  of  near  explosions  that  smote  and 
rent.  The  earth  shuddered.  Fragments  fell  from 
the  roof  to  the  floor.  There  was  an  appalling,  stu- 
pendous roar  apparently  exactly  overhead,  simul- 
taneous with  a  fierce  stunning  shock  that  bludgeoned 
their  senses  and  left  them  dazed.  In  the  light  of 
the  pocket  lamp  they  saw  the  supports  of  one  wall 
give  way,  sink;  a  mass  of  earth  bulged  into  the  dug- 
out. A  glance  at  the  roof  showed  it  beaten  down 
diagonally.  They  sat  motionless  and  silent  in  the 
circumscribed  space. 

Hour  after  hour  passed — a  timeless,  indefinitely 
extended  period.  Their  ineffectual  efforts  at  conver- 
sation lapsed.  The  acuteness  of  a  fear  in  which 
they  could  do  nothing  for  defence  was  dulled  grad- 
ually into  a  vague  hopelessness,  the  savage  persist- 
ence of  the  bombardment  hazing  their  senses  with 
its  monotony  of  thundering,  riving  menace. 

At  first  tense,  quivering,  they  relaxed  to  a  limp 
exhaustion.      Despite   the   violent   concussions,   the 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  67 

blasts  of  shattering  noise,  they  dozed  fitfully  under 
the  excess  of  strain.  Flitting  dreams  passed  over 
them,  blending  with  wakefulness.  Hofmeister  found 
himself  living  through  a  recapitulation  of  the  inci- 
dents of  the  day.  He  saw  again  the  agony  of  fright 
on  the  faces  of  the  N.  C.  O.  left  with  the  ammunition 
on  the  wrecked  train — the  stricken  ration  party  help- 
less under  the  drifting  gas.  He  heard  once  more  the 
querulous  impeachment  of  the  officer  whose  men  were 
starving — gazed,  with  a  horror  surpassing  that  of 
the  reality,  on  the  hell  of  the  first-aid  dugout,  felt 
himself  wildly  sharing  the  dementia  of  the  over- 
wrought doctor.  Once  more  he  toiled  over  the  shell- 
churned  ground  where  the  haggard  soldiers  dug  for 
dear  life — saw  the  ominous  lanes  in  the  wire  before 
the  silent  British  parapet.  Through  all  his  visions 
he  was  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  immense  effort — im- 
mense futility  under  a  cloud  of  inexorable  menace. 
He  woke  with  one  of  his  own  groans.  The  others 
were  dreaming  also,  making  strange  noises. 

They  roused  occasionally  from  these  brief  recu- 
perations to  the  reperceived  uproar,  to  the  full  real- 
isation of  imminent  danger  never  slackening  in  its 
threat.  Then  a  cold  fear  gripped  them  as  they  sat 
deprived  of  any  activity  that  could  occupy  their 
minds.  The  strain  seemed  more  than  could  be 
borne.  The  electric  lamp  was  almost  exhausted — 
gave  only  a  dull  red  glow.  Hofmeister  roused  him- 
self, shut  it  off  and  turned  on  his  own.  Crash  fol- 
lowed crash  outside  with  a  fury  that  had  neither 


68  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

hesitated  nor  diminished  since  its  first  commence- 
ment an  eternity  of  time  ago.  He  wondered  dully 
whether  any  of  the  battalion  were  left  alive,  won- 
dered that  the  dugout  had  so  long  sheltered  him  and 
his  companions. 

The  artillery  officer  stirred. 

"Herr  Gott!  but  I  am  hungry  I"  he  said. 

The  battalion  commander,  long  utterly  immobile, 
surprised  them  by  answering.  He  had  seemed 
asleep. 

"I  have  had  nothing  to  eat  for  three  days,"  he 
said.     "Nor  my  men." 

Hofmeister  quickened  with  an  idea. 

"But  we  have  our  emergency  rations!"  he  cried. 
"Herr  Oberst!"  He  roused  his  superior.  "Let  us 
eat — it  will  be  something  to  do!" 

"Ja,  jar*  murmured  Von  Forster  with  a  childish 
vacuity.  A  transformation  had  taken  place  in  him. 
He  was  startlingly  senile,  mouth  loose,  eyes  pouched 
and  bleary,  as  he  felt  fumblingly  for  his  emergency 
ration.  He  was  merely  an  old,  old  man.  All  ca- 
pacity for  command  had  vanished.  "Let  us  eat! 
For  the  last  time!"  He  spoke  apparently  to  him- 
self, and  chuckled  with  an  imbecile  and  horrid  mirth. 

Lieutenant  von  Waldow  slept,  babbling  in  uneasy 
dreams.  Hofmeister  took  his  emergency  ration 
without  waking  him. 

The  five  of  them — for  Stein  had  roused  himself 
from  the  corner  where  he  crouched — ate  the  sausage 
and  biscuit  of  the  three  rations.    The  imminence  of 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  69 

death  present  to  the  consciousness  of  each  as,  now 
fully  wakened,  they  listened  to  the  everlasting  crash 
and  roar  of  the  inferno  overhead,  they  ate  with  that 
wolfish  gluttony  of  those  breakfasting  for  the  last 
time  in  the  condemned  cell,  the  body  imperiously  as- 
serting its  craving  to  live,  their  nerves  relieved  to 
find  a  veil  for  terror. 

Hofmeister  produced  his  flask,  portioned  out 
mouthfuls  in  an  enamel  mug  passed  from  hand  to 
hand.  Their  faces,  grotesquely  illumined  in  high 
light  and  deep  shadow  as  they  clustered  round  the 
electric  lamp  throwing  its  narrow  beam  across  the 
dugout,  were  stamped  with  the  horror  of  the  night. 

"This  is  the  end,"  repeated  the  major.  "I 
marched  with  the  first  in  August — fought  at  the 
Marne,  Ypres,  in  Russia,  on  the  Somme.  Every- 
where men  were  killed  round  me — all  my  officers. 
Time  after  time — I  survived — miraculously.  I  be- 
lieved— believed  I  had  a  star — something  that  kept 
me  safe — and  this  is  what  it  kept  me  for!  This  is 
the  end."     He  stopped.     "My  poor  little  wife!" 

''Bine,  Herr  Major!"  cried  Hofmeister  in  ex- 
postulation. "We  all  have  womenfolk.  One  dare 
not  think  of  them  on  the  battlefield!" 

"Battlefield!"  cried  Stein.  "I  would  not  mind 
dying  on  the  open  field.  It*s  being  killed  like  rats 
in  a  trap " 

"Killed  uselessly!"  The  gunner  officer  took  it 
up.  "If  only  we  had  been  able  to  make  peace  on 
our  first  victories!     Now — now  we  are  being  bled 


76  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

to  death  to  keep  up  the  pretence  that  we  have  won." 

"It  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,'*  repeated  the 
major. 

The  Oberst  rose  to  his  feet  suddenly.  He  swayed 
as  though  in  the  gusts  of  the  crashing  detonations 
butside.  He  held  the  enamel  mug  in  his  hand  as 
though  about  to  drink  to  a  toast. 

"Meine  Herren/^  he  said,  an  uncanny  wild  so- 
lemnity in  his  tone,  "we  are  dead  men."  He 
raised  his  voice  to  be  heard  amid  a  louder  explosion. 
"You  and  I,  major — we  marched  through  Belgium 
in  the  long  ago — ^there  are  not  many  of  us  left.  I 
drink  to  our  eternal  damnation!  Can't  you  see 
them?  Can't  you  hear  them — those  mad  women — 
shrieking  at  us — clawing  at  us?  I  have  heard  them 
all  this  night — ^beating  on  the  roof  to  get  at  us — 
and  I  laugh  at  them  as  I  laughed  then !" 

He  burst  into  a  shriek  of  crazy  laughter  that 
made  the  blood  run  cold.  "I  laugh  at  them  all 
through  hell — I  used  to  laugh  at  them  in  my  dreams 
— I  could  not  prevent  them  haunting  me.  We  laugh 
at  them  now,  major — damned  but  Uhermenschen — 
Uhermenschen  even  in  hell — nicht  wahr,  major? 
Ha  I  ha  I  ha  I"  Again  his  insane  mirth  mingled  with 
the  crashes. 

The  major  hid  his  face  in  his  hands.  Hofmeister 
sprang  up  and  pulled  the  old  man  down  to  his  seat. 

"He  is  mad!"  he  cried.     "Don't  listen  to  him  I" 

The  old  man  sat  and  laughed  evilly  to  himself. 

There  was  an  even  louder  crash  outside,  a  more 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  71 

violent  shock.  They  glanced  toward  the  stairway, 
saw  masses  of  earth  rolling  down  it. 

"The  entrance  has  been  blown  in!"  shouted  Stein 
amid  a  series  of  terribly  fierce  explosions  that  was 
as  the  very  heart  of  a  storm.  *'Quick!  Pick  and 
shovel!" 

He  sprang  to  the  tools.  He  seized  one,  Hofmeis- 
ter  the  other.  Some  one  snatched  the  lamp,  shone  it 
up  the  stairway,  which  was  blocked  with  earth.  Fev- 
erishly Stein  and  Hofmeister  attacked  it,  flinging 
debris  behind  them  into  the  dugout.  They  forgot 
all  other  dangers  in  the  panic  fear  of  burial  alive  as 
they  hacked  and  shovelled  at  the  obstruction.  There 
were  many  feet  of  it  to  be  cleared  away.  Hofmeis- 
ter paused  for  a  moment  after  a  frenzied  bout  of 
toil. 

"Listen !"  he  cried.  "Listen!  The  fire  has  lifted ! 
The  attack  has  begun !    Quick!    Quick!" 

With  superhuman  energy  the  two  men  delved  into 
the  mass  of  earth  that  crumbled  about  their  feet  on 
the  stairway.  Below  them  others,  they  knew  not 
who,  cleared  it  into  the  dugoijt.  The  pick  smote 
right  through.  A  few  more  shovel  digs  at  the  roof 
of  earth  above  them  and  it  collapsed  onto  their 
heads.  They  saw  a  pale  grey  sky.  The  crash  of 
shells  was  a  distant  continued  sound.  The  sharp,  vi- 
cious hammering  of  machine  guns  was  the  dominant 
noise. 

Somebody  clutched  at  Hofmeister  as  he  forced 
himself  through  the  narrow  aperture  into  the  free 


72  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

air.  He  glanced  back  and  saw  Von  Waldow,  and 
kicked  viciously.  But  the  young  lieutenant  squirmed 
out  behind  him,  overtook  him  as  he  ran  along  an 
unrecognisable  trench.  Hofmeister  fell  headlong 
over  a  heap  of  earth  and  heard  a  violent  detonation 
close  behind — another,  duller  explosion  following 
it.  Bombs  I  The  dugout!  His  imagination  half 
glimpsed  the  fate  of  his  comrades  as  he  struggled 
to  his  feet. 

He  looked  up,  to  sec  a  man,  hooded  like  a  famil- 
iar of  the  Inquisition,  horribly  unhuman  with  his 
featureless  face,  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  trench 
above  him  with  a  bomb  poised  to  throw. 

He  heard  a  yell  from  Von  Waldow,  saw  the  young 
lieutenant  sprint  at  the  man  like  a  maniac,  all  oblivi- 
ous of  his  wounded  arm,  snatch  and  wrench  at  the 
man's  wrist,  fling  the  bomb  away  after  a  moment  of 
fierce  struggle,  in  which  Hofmeister  agonised  for 
the  explosion.  The  enemy  disappeared  suddenly — ' 
how,  he  knew  not.  He  was  feeling  queerly  faint. 
Wounded  I  How?  Where?  When?  Von  Wal- 
dow  seized  him,  dragged  him  along. 

"Quick,  Herr  Hauptmann !  Quick  I  I  know  a  ma- 
chine-gun dugout  I"  The  lad  was  in  a  frenzy  of 
excitement,  utterly  unlike  the  shrinking,  frightened 
poltroon  he  had  appeared  in  the  dugout. 

He  dragged  the  staff  captain  a  little  way  along 
the  trench  and  stopped  before  a  low  entrance  to  a 
tunnel.  They  wriggled  into  it,  hearing  only  faintly 
now  the  hammering  of  the  machine  guns,  the  thud 


IN  THE  HINDENBURG  LINE  7S 

of  bombs.  As  Hofmeister  crawled  along  the  pas- 
sage he  felt  his  senses  return  to  him.  He  was  not 
severely  wounded.     Only  a  touch  somewhere. 

"There  should  be  machine  gunners  here!"  called 
out  Von  Waldow,  scrambling  ahead  in  the  darkness. 
They  emerged  into  an  underground  chamber  dimly 
visible  in  a  pale  light  that  fell  through  a  perpendicu- 
lar shaft  at  the  farther  end.  The  place  was  empty. 
Both  officers  rose  to  their  feet  and  ran  to  the  shaft. 
A  machine  gun  on  a  little  platform  rested  on  the 
bottom.  The  platform  was  a  lift  worked  by  an 
arrangement  of  pulleys  and  counterweights.  Hof- 
meister sprang  onto  it. 

"Pull  me  up  I"  he  cried.  Von  Waldow  seized  a 
hanging  rope. 

The  staff  captain,  crouching  by  the  weapon  to 
adjust  it  for  action,  felt  himself  slowly  mounting  the 
narrow  shaft  as  the  lieutenant  tugged  jerkily  at  the 
rope  with  his  one  valid  arm.  The  platform  stopped. 
Hofmeister,  looking  over  the  sights  of  the  gun, 
gazed  at  his  foes. 

Parties  of  brown-clad  men  were  moving,  disap- 
pearing and  reappearing,  amid  the  heaped  and  pitted 
desolation  of  the  ridge.  All  were  going  in  one  di- 
rection— ^toward  the  German  lines.  A  few  ran  at  a 
slow  jog  trot.  The  most  walked  with  plodding  de- 
liberation. All  kept  in  their  loose  formations  of 
little  groups.  Some  had  rifles,  bayonets  fixed. 
Others  had  only  bags  of  bombs.  All  were  hooded, 
featureless,  under  the  flat  helmets.     Shrapnel  burst 


74  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

above  them  here  and  there,  but  the  shell  fire  was 
not  much  visible,  though  audible  enough  as  the 
counterbarrages  crashed  and  thudded  just  out  of 
sight  on  either  hand. 

Hofmeister  released  the  safety  catch,  traversed 
the  gun,  seeking  for  a  bunch  of  the  enemy.  He  saw 
a  group  carrying  curious  heavy  firearms  like  old- 
fashioned  blunderbusses  fling  themselves  down  in  a 
rear  shell  hole,  the  muzzles  of  two  weapons  point 
at  him.  He  slewed  his  weapon  with  the  instinctive 
quickness  of  a  menaced  animal,  pressed  on  the  trig- 
ger, crouching  low.     He  heard  only  his  first  shot. 

The  groups  of  hooded  men  continued  to  stream 
across  the  German  position,  dropping  bombs  down 
suspected  holes.  One  dropped  down  a  shaft  where 
a  young  lieutenant,  with  only  one  arm  capable  of 
use,  was  clinging  to  its  side,  vainly  trying  to  climb 
the  rough,  absolutely  perpendicular  ladder. 

The  first  counter  attack  was  made  in  such  chaotic 
fashion  that  the  absence  of  higher  leadership  was 
manifest 


Ill 

THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY 

TWO  officers  sat  at  table  in  the  long  wooden  hut 
that  was  the  mess  of  the  junior  officers  of  the 
airship  squadron.  Both  were  very  young,  fair-com- 
plexioned,  with  close-cropped  hair,  typically  North 
German.  Round  them  were  the  remains  of  a  co- 
pious meal.  Used  crockery  upon  the  table  indicated 
that  other  officers  had  already  eaten,  but  the  two 
young  men  sat  alone. 

The  furniture  of  the  hut  was  of  the  simplest.  In 
addition  to  the  inevitable  piquant  or  humorous  de- 
signs culled  from  the  illustrated  papers,  a  large,  dou- 
ble-page drawing  from  the  Illustrierte  Zeitung  was 
prominent  on  the  wall.  It  depicted,  with  powerful 
imagination,  a  London  whose  architectural  peculiar- 
ities were  emphasised  in  an  inferno  of  blood-red 
flame,  fire-racked  shipping  in  a  tangle  under  a  shat- 
tered Tower  Bridge,  while  overhead  a  fleet  of  Zep- 
pelins floated  with  insulting  calm  high  above  a  lat- 
tice-work of  searchlights  starred  with  bursting 
shells.  Underneath  was  the  legend,  in  fat  Gothic 
type:  *^Gott  strafe  England!  Der  Schreck  in  Him- 
mer   ("The  terror  in  the  sky"). 

75 


n6  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  slighter  of  the  two  officers  gazed  thought- 
fully at  this  interesting  product  of  German  art. 

"Is  it  really  like  that,  Fritz?"  he  asked. 

His  companion  laughed  shortly  at  the  earnest  tone 
of  the  question.  It  was  made  manifest  that  he  was 
a  man  of  experience. 

*'Not  quite,  Otto,"  he  admitted.  He  glanced  at 
the  watch  upon  his  wrist.  *'Noch  zehn  Minuten/' 
he  said,  and  the  would-be  ease  of  his  voice  somehow 
wrecked  itself  upon  a  false  note  of  jauntiness.  He 
drew  a  case  of  fat  cigars  from  his  pocket  and  prof- 
fered it  to  his  companion.  "Take  one,"  he  insisted. 
"It  will  be  long  before  you  get  another." 

Both  lads  puffed  manfully.  Fritz  Steinhauer  and 
Otto  von  Bruchheim  had  been  school-chums  to^ 
gether.  Both  at  the  earliest  possible  moment — ^but 
Steinhauer,  by  virtue  of  a  slight  seniority  in  age, 
three  months  before  his  comrade — had  answered  the 
call  of  the  Fatherland.  More  fortunate  than  so 
many  thousands  of  gallant  lads  shortsightedly  sacri- 
ficed in  schoolboy  battalions,  they  had  profited  by 
their  real  abilities  and  much  influence  to  enter  the 
airship  service.  Both  had  passed  through  the  great 
central  school  at  Leipzig — ^Fritz  always  in  advance 
— and  now,  after  several  months  of  separation,  they 
were  again  re-united.  By  a  happy  and  rare  chance 
Otto  had  been  posted  from  the  school  to  the  same 
squadron  as  his  friend.  He  had  arrived  only  yes- 
terday. 

Otto  continued  to  stare  at  the  picture,  although 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  77 

evidently  he  looked  through  it,  down  a  vista  of 
thought. 

He  leaned  suddenly  forward  across  the  table  to 
his  friend. 

*' Alter  BurschF'  His  manner  was  shamefaced. 
Clumsily  he  groped  his  fingers  in  a  breast-pocket 
while  he  spoke.  "You  know  people  feel — feel  some- 
times— in    advance "      He    extracted    a    little 

packet  from  the  pocket.  "If — if  anything  happens 
I  want  you  to  give  this  to  your  sister  Elsa,"  he  fin- 
ished, in  a  swift,  nervous  run  of  words. 

His  friend  looked  at  him  in  pleased  surprise. 

"You  and  Elsa !  I  had  no  idea But,  dummer 

Kerl,  if  anything  happens  to  you,  it  happens  to  me 
also!  We  all  go" — he  indicated  with  an  earthward 
gesture  of  the  hand — "together."  A  big  puff  of 
cigar-smoke  and  a  backward  jerk  of  the  head  marked 
his  contempt  for  the  possibility. 

Otto  chastised  his  forehead  with  his  fist. 

"Of  course!"  he  laughed.  "What  a  fool  I  ami 
Fritz" — he  leaned  forward  again,  his  face  all  boyish 
earnestness — "this  is  my  first  trip  in  real  earnest — 
but — ^but  you  know  Vm  not  afraid,  don't  you?  It 
wasn't  that — it  was "    He  stopped  awkwardlyy 

"Afraid?"  echoed  Fritz.  "Of  course  not!  Who- 
ever heard  of  a  German  officer  who  was  afraid?" 
He  swaggered  in  front  of  a  mental  mirror  after  the 
manner  of  his  race  and  caste.  "But  it's  a  pity  you 
haven't  got  a  real  job.  It's  much  better  when  there 
is  a  responsibility  to  keep  your  mind  occupied." 


78  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Otto  was  "supernumerary  officer  under  instruc- 
tion."   He  nodded  his  head  absently. 

"The  captain  is  a  good  man,  isn't  he?" 

"Good  ?  I  should  think  so  I"  answered  Fritz,  with 
pride.  "It  is  something  to  be  his  second-in-com- 
mand I  And,  Herr  Gott,  doesn't  he  hate  the  Eng- 
lish! He  knows  his  way  over  their  cursed  country 
better  than  you  do  yours  over  the  Leipzig  flying- 
grounds.  He  used  to  fly  over  England  at  night  even 
before  the  war.  He  has  often  told  me  about  it.  It 
seems  some  of  the  stupid  Englanders  heard  the  en- 
gines in  the  air  and  wrote  to  the  papers  about  it,  and 
once  he  and  the  other  officers  who  used  to  fly  in  the 
old  Zeppelin  thought  that  the  game  was  up.  But 
then  more  mad  Englanders  wrote  to  the  papers  that 
it  was  all  nonsense,  and  so  everything  was  all  right." 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  "Time's  up  I  Get  your 
coat  on,  alter  Bummlerr 

He  shouted  for  an  orderly.  The  man  appeared, 
assisted  both  officers  into  the  thick  padded  coats 
which  went  over  already  cold-proof  clothing.  On 
the  moment  of  departure  Fritz  turned  to  his  friend. 

"If  you  like  to  give  me  the  packet  for  Elsa,"  he 
said,  in  a  voice  he  made  as  ordinary  as  possible,  "I 
will  put  it  with  some  things  of  mine  that  my  servant 
is  looking  after." 

The  light  had  not  quite  faded  out  of  the  sky  of  a 
late  autumn  evening  when  they  left  the  hut.  They 
emerged  into  a  vast  level  field.  Directly  in  front  of 
them,  at  a  considerable  distance  from  each  other, 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  79 

three  enormous  Zeppelin  sheds  were  the  dominant 
feature  in  the  landscape.  Close  to  each,  dwarfed  to 
Lilliputians  by  the  huge  bulk,  was  a  body  of  Infantry, 
immobile  in  their  ranks.  Every  tree  and  hedge 
which  could  possibly  interfere  with  a  landing  had 
been  cut  down,  but  the  long,  straight  march  of  elms 
lining  a  main  road  had  been  left  as  a  wind-screen. 
Behind  it  rose  the  spires  of  a  Belgian  town,  just 
discernible  in  the  twilight. 

The  two  lads  walked  swiftly  across  the  wide  land- 
ing-ground towards  the  nearest  of  the  airship-sheds. 
Of  the  diffident  suggestion  of  schoolboy  intimacy  that 
had  escaped  them  in  the  privacy  of  the  mess-hut 
there  remained  not  a  trace.  Despite  their  clumsy  at- 
tire, they  hastened  with  erect,  well-drilled  carriage, 
superb  in  stern  self-poise.  They  were,  very  con- 
sciously, German  officers  in  an  idolised  service.  They 
belonged  to  a  super-caste  of  the  War-Lords,  In  whom 
a  hint  of  human  weakness  was  as  unthinkable  as  pity 
In  a  barbaric  god.  On  duty,  at  least — they  had  im- 
bibed the  theory  with  their  mother's  milk — they  were 
of  a  divine  hierarchy,  the  world  of  men  at  their  feet. 
They  saluted  smartly,  with  a  stiff,  precise  gesture — 
both  moved  as  by  one  spring — the  commanding  offi- 
cer of  the  infantry  drawn  up  near  the  shed. 

The  great  doors  were  flung  open.  Within,  mask- 
ing somewhat  and  yet  reflecting  the  powerful  white 
electric  lights,  the  monster  towered  above  them,  in- 
credibly huge.  The  long  parallel  lines  of  the  im- 
mense polyhedral  flanks  receded,   softly  gleaming 


so  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

aluminium,  and  drew  together  far,  far  back  in  the 
illumined  depths  of  the  vast  shed.  Stout  steel  ca- 
bles, taut  to  ring-bolts  in  the  concrete  floor,  as  well 
as  an  infinite  multitude  of  smaller  ropes,  pinioned 
the  floating  leviathan  to  immobility.  Beneath  the 
colossal  bulk  of  the  rigid  gas  envelope,  the  hanging 
cars  linked  by  the  long,  narrow,  rod-slung  gangway, 
even  the  enormous  propellers  seemed  dwarfed  to 
insignificance.  Under  the  lofty,  cathedral-like  roof 
of  the  shed  the  voices  of  men  resounded  with  a  hol- 
low echo.  The  overall-garbed  mechanists  by  the 
door  sprang  smartly  to  a  salute  as  the  two  officers  a 
entered. 

From  the  central  car  a  whitewashed  rope-ladder 
hung,  nearly  touching  the  floor.  Fritz  sprang  up  it 
with  such  agility  as  his  padded  clothing  permitted. 
His  friend  followed.  At  the  top  of  the  ladder  an 
Unteroffizier  stood  rigid,  saluted. 

"All  ready?*'  asked  Fritz,  with  clipped  curtness. 

*^Ja,  Herr  LeutnantJ* 

With  the  swift  precision  of  a  man  who  thoroughly 
knows  his  job.  Lieutenant  Steinhauer  started  on  a 
tour  of  Inspection  of  the  entire  ship.  The  senior 
Unteroffizier  and  Otto  followed  him.  Everywhere 
the  crew  stood  ready  at  their  stations.  In  the  cen- 
tral control-car,  roofed,  upholstered,  fitted  with  pan- 
els that  could  close  over  the  transparent  celluloid 
windows,  the  steersman  stood  In  waiting  behind  the 
wheels  and  levers  that  gave  him  mastery  over  the 
lateral  or  vertical  progress  of  the  ship;  the  tele- 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  81 

phonist  sat  before  his  instrument.  Under  a  row  of 
dials  on  the  wall — clock,  aneroid  barometer,  speed 
gauges,  etc. — a  great  chart  was  spread  on  a  strutted 
table,  field-glasses  upon  it.  In  another  compartment 
the  wireless  operator  sat  at  his  apparatus.  Between 
the  two,  below  the  gangway,  the  bombs  were  ranged 
in  two  neat  parallel  rows,  suspended  between  rails. 
The  couple  of  men  detailed  for  the  duty  stood  by  the 
levers  which  at  the  proper  moment  should  release  the 
missiles.  The  machine-gunners,  fore  and  aft  and 
centre,  were  at  their  posts.  Steinhauer  glanced  at 
the  spotless  cleanliness  of  the  weapons,  assured  him- 
self that  the  correct  reserve  of  ammunition  was  in* 
stantly  available.  The  low-roofed  engine-cars  at 
bow  and  stern  were  inspected,  their  machinery  tested 
in  a  roar  that  re-echoed  thunderously  under  the  roof 
of  the  shed  while  the  disconnected  propellers  re- 
mained motionless.  Particular  attention  did  the  offi- 
cer devote  to  a  little  car  slung  tight-close  under  the 
floor  of  the  gangway  between  two  drums  of  coiled 
steel  wire.  A  manhole  was  opened  in  the  floor,  an 
electric  light  switched  on  below.  A  snug  litle  nest, 
well-padded,  in  which  a  man  could  lie  full-stretched, 
was  revealed.  Steinhauer  assured  himself  that  field- 
glasses,  telephone,  and  emergency  rations  were  all  at 
hand.  The  manhole  was  closed,  the  two  officers  and 
the  N.  C.  O.  continued  their  tour.  A  climb  up  a 
narrow  ladder  through  the  darkness  of  the  great  en- 
velope, between  the  ballonets,  to  the  machine-gun 
platform  at  the  top,  and  the  inspection  was  finished. 


82  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Steinhauer  glanced  at  the  time,  and,  calmly  satisfied, 
took  up  his  station  at  the  head  of  the  dangling  rope- 
ladder.  Lieutenant  von  Bruchheim  stood  by  his 
side.  Their  fair,  boyish  faces  rigid,  unemotional, 
they  stood,  not  less  than  the  mighty  engine  so  terri- 
bly beautiful  in  its  finely-conceived  immensity  which 
dwarfed  them,  perfected  parts  of  the  machine  a 
would-be  superhuman  Germany  had  forged  for  the 
conquest  of  the  world. 

Quick,  hard  footsteps  along  the  concrete  floor  re- 
sounded in  the  great  shed.  In  close  conversation 
with  a  red-striped  officer  of  the  General  Staff,  an  offi- 
cer, whose  spare,  hawk-like  face  looked  strangely 
thin  above  the  mass  of  thick  clothing,  approached 
the  rope-ladder.  They  stopped,  saluted  mutually 
with  a  click  of  the  heels,  and  the  hawk-faced  officer 
climbed  the  ladder.  As  he  mounted,  looking  up- 
wards, the  piercing  intensity  of  his  glance — the  eyes 
of  a  fanatic — gave  Otto  von  Bruchheim  a  queer 
thrill.  An  impulse  of  passionate  patriotism,  glorying 
in  risk  and  sacrifice,  pitiless  to  the  foe,  communicated 
itself  to  him.  Not  a  muscle  moved  in  him,  but  he 
suddenly  felt  himself  capable  of  any  desperate  hero- 
ism. To  die,  coldly  and  unemotionally  as  a  German 
officer  should  I — he  thrilled  in  every  fibre. 

The  commander  reached  the  platform.  The  two 
young  officers  saluted  with  precise  automatism. 
Their  superior's  eyes  softened. 

**Guten  Abend,  meine  Herren**  he  said. 

The  man's  personality  was  magnetic.     Here,  on 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  SB 

the  brink  of  their  far-flung  enterprise,  Otto,  who 
had  felt  only  awe  in  presence  of  this  stern  man,  sud- 
denly loved  him.  To  his  vague,  lofty  Ideal  an  In- 
tense loyalty  linked  Itself. 

The  commander  turned  to  Steinhauer. 

"Is  all  ready?'' 

**Ja,  Herr  Kapitdn — all  Is  ready." 

The  commander  nodded. 

"Go  to  your  station,  then."  He  turned  to  Otto. 
"You  will  remain  with  me." 

Steinhauer  saluted  and  departed  aft.  The  com- 
mander, followed  by  Otto,  moved  to  the  fore-part  of 
the  gangway.    He  blew  a  shrill  blast  on  his  whistle. 

The  measured  tramp  of  the  Infantry-soldiers  as 
they  marched  Into  the  vast  shed  resounded  under  the 
lofty  roof.  On  either  side  of  the  great  airship  they 
stood  motionless  In  long  ranks.  Other  whistles  blew. 
There  were  a  few  curt  orders,  no  shouting.  In  a 
moment  the  leviathan,  swaying  a  little,  was  checked 
only  by  the  hundreds  of  men  clinging  to  the  ropes. 

Another  blast  on  the  whistle  and  slowly,  gently,  the 
great  airship  began  to  glide  out  of  her  shed,  drawn 
on  the  steady  march  of  the  Infantrymen,  tiny  beneath 
them.  Otto  stood  by  the  commander  on  the  open 
gangway  as  they  floated  out  of  the  hard,  white  bril- 
liance of  the  electric-lit  shed  Into  the  grey  of  the 
deepening  night.  Distant  across  the  wide  landing- 
ground  the  open  doorways  of  the  other  sheds  gaped, 
illumined  like  the  mouths  of  caverns.  From  them 
also  had  their  giant  tenants  been  led  out  to  the  far 


84  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

adventure.  One  lay  poised  on  the  ground,  her  Im- 
mense length,  bluff  at  the  nose  and  tapering  at  the 
stern,  blocking  out  the  horizon.  The  other  hung 
already  In  the  air,  ghostlike  in  the  faint  light,  rising 
vertically  and  silently. 

A  whistle  shrilled  from  the  after-end  of  the  ship. 
They  were  clear  of  the  shed.  Still  they  continued 
to  glide  across  the  ground,  the  tiny  soldiers  straining 
with  bent  backs  at  the  ropes.  The  commander 
glanced  at  the  other  ships.  Both  were  now  rising. 
He  leaned  over  the  rail,  blew  his  whistle.  The  sig- 
nal was  repeated  from  below.  The  great  ship 
stopped,  quivering.  "All  clear  I'*  was  reported  from 
the  ground.  The  commander  blew  one  last  loud 
blast  upon  his  whistle. 

**Nun  kann's  losgehenr  he  said  to  Otto,  with  a 
grim  smile,  parodying  the  famous  phrase  that  had 
unleashed  the  fiends  of  war. 

The  young  officer  glanced  over  the  rail.  The 
earth,  misty  and  Indistinct,  was  already  far  below 
them,  was  falling  away.  Without  shock  or  tremor 
the  great  ship  rose  straight  up  in  the  windless  air. 

"Come !"  said  the  commander  to  Otto,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  control-car,  bright  with  electric  light. 

Kapitan  von  Breitmiiller  commanded  not  only  his 
own  craft,  but  the  two  other  ships  composing  the 
squadron.  As  he  entered  the  control-car  he  called 
out  an  order,  prefaced  with  the  code-names  of  the 
other  ships.  "Course  W.N.W.  at  a  thousand  me- 
tres, rising."     The  telephonist  repeated  it  to  the 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  85 

wireless  operator  in  the  other  cabin.  Other  orders 
directing  the  flight  formation,  distances,  engine  revo- 
lution, etc.,  followed.  Otto  glanced  at  the  rapidly- 
mounting  needle  of  the  aneroid  barometer.  It 
touched  1,000.  At  the  same  moment  he  heard  the 
bell  of  the  telegraph-indicator  to  the  engine-rooms 
and  the  answering  clangs. 

With  a  deafening,  rattling  roar,  that  swelled  still 
louder  in  response  to  another  clang  on  the  telegraph, 
the  engines  started.  The  great  ship  woke  from  her 
inertia,  pulsed  with  throbbing  life.  With  a  dizzy 
swing  she  came  round  to  her  course.  Again  the  tele- 
graph clanged,  and  yet  louder  rattled  and  roared  the 
great  propellers  as  they  clove  and  forced  back  the 
air  in  their  fiercely-swift  revolutions.  Everything 
in  the  great  ship  quivered  with  the  force  of  her  rush 
through  the  air  and  the  feverish  life-beat  of  her 
engines.  To  touch  wood  or  metal  was  to  come  into 
contact  with  an  almost  painful  vibration.  The  needle 
of  the  aneroid  barometer  still  climbed.  As  she  rose 
into  higher  regions  the  ship  found  herself  heading 
into  a  slight  breeze.  She  commenced  to  pitch  in 
long,  slow  undulations,  like  a  ship  in  a  gentle  swell 
at  sea,  the  cabin  floor  rising  and  dropping  away 
almost  imperceptibly. 

Von  BreitmuUer  drew  his  junior  to  the  great  chart, 
marked  a  point  upon  it  with  his  finger,  shouted  to 
be  heard  above  the  roar. 

"Here,"  he  said,  *'we  meet  the  other  squadron. 


86  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

To-night  the  verdammte  Engldnder  shall  know  what 
the  hate  of  Germany  means." 

The  boy  glanced  up,  surprised  at  the  hatred  in  his 
superior's  voice.  The  passion  he  had  often  facti- 
tiously awakened  in  himself  when  chorusing  the 
Hymn  of  Hate  was  here  beside  him  in  a  living  em- 
bodiment, the  incarnate  spirit  of  the  monster  throb- 
bing fiercely  through  the  sky  on  her  errand  of  de- 
struction. 

In  obedience  to  an  order  from  the  commander,  he 
went  out  of  the  control-car  along  the  gangway.  A 
rush  of  intensely  cold  air  smote  him,  penetrated  his 
thick  clothing.  He  glanced  over  the  rail.  The 
earth  lay  hollow  beneath  him  like  a  dark  bowl  from 
whose  rim  rose,  silver-grey,  the  night  sky.  Far 
below,  in  the  blackness,  the  lights  of  a  Belgian  town 
glimmered  yellow.  Aft  of  the  ship,  to  port  and 
starboard  on  the  same  plane  as  the  leader,  the  single 
lights  of  the  other  two  ships  glowed  like  large  stars. 
The  radiance  from  their  cars  could  just  be  seen. 

He  passed  along  the  gangway,  stepping  over  the 
machine-gun  crews  huddled  in  thick  wraps  under 
the  lee  of  such  protection  as  they  could  find  from  the 
bitter  blast.  In  the  rearward  engine-car  he  found 
Steinhauer  in  earnest  conference  with  the  mechanist 
Vnteroffizier.  Despite  all  their  efforts,  the  star- 
board engine  was  refusing  to  run  as  sweetly  as  it 
should.  Here,  in  this  long,  low-roofed  cabin  filled 
with    machinery,    the    atmosphere    was    pleasantly 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  87 

warm.  The  noise  stunned  one,  bludgeoning  the 
senses  in  the  confined  space. 

Steinhauer  looked  up  with  a  preoccupied  frown, 
shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice  an  explanation  of  the 
trouble.  The  N.C.O.  gesticulated  with  a  spanner, 
alleged  a  diagnosis,  and  promised  alleviation.  Von 
Bruchheim  returned  to  report. 

He  found  the  commander  receiving  a  wireless 
message  from  the  other  squadron.  They  were  in 
touch.  He  looked  out  of  the  windows,  saw  search- 
light after  searchlight  shoot  out  into  the  night  sky 
and  be  instantly  extinguished.  The  other  squadron 
was  signalling  its  position.  Von  Breitmiiller  shouted 
an  order.  From  their  own  ship  and  from  those  fol- 
lowing, similar  beams  barred  the  sky  for  a  moment 
with  an  intense  whiteness,  and  then  were  not.  The 
stars,  temporarily  obliterated,  leaped  back  into  a 
black  heaven.  The  squadron  had  effected  junction 
with  four  more  ships,  three  composing  another 
squadron,  the  other  carrying  a  very  important  per- 
sonage in  supreme  command  of  the  whole. 

From  now  on  von  Breitmiiller  received  orders, 
re-transmitted  them  to  his  own  squadron.  The  first 
was  significant.  All  lights  were  dowsed.  The  con- 
trol-car was  illumined  only  by  glow-lamps  over  the 
steering-compass,  the  indicator  dials,  the  chart.  The 
speed  of  the  fleet  was  increased.  Slanting  upward, 
the  ship,  driven  through  the  air  with  a  force  that 
shook  her  violently,  climbed  by  her  inclined  planes 
to  yet  higher  regions.     Already  the  dial  indicated 


88  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

over  three  thousand  metres.  Von  BreitmuUer 
pointed  to  a  spot  on  the  chart.  They  were  already 
over  the  sea. 

For  rather  more  than  an  hour  their  fiercely  pulsing 
progress  continued  without  event.  Dimly  through 
the  side-windows,  frosted  with  the  exhalations  of 
the  men  inside  the  cabin,  could  be  discerned  the  glint 
of  stars  in  a  dark  sky.  Of  their  consorts  nothing 
was  to  be  seen.  Otto  knew  only  that  the  other 
squadron  was  ahead,  their  own  squadron  spread  in 
a  wide  echelon  behind  it.  But  messages  were  con- 
tinually exchanged  between  the  ships.  Stelnhauer 
had  now  entered  the  cabin,  stood  with  his  friend 
behind  the  commander,  who  sprawled  upon  a  cush- 
ion, gazing  downward  through  a  transparent  panel 
in  the  floor.  They  looked  also,  bending  over  his 
shoulders. 

Beneath  them  was  an  intense  blackness  that  they 
knew  to  be  the  sea.  Once  or  twice  a  thin  strip  of 
white  overlaid  it,  suddenly  produced  and  equally  sud- 
denly abolished — ^thc  searchlights  of  patroUing 
ships.  Over  on  the  port  bow — it  seemed  almost 
directly  under  them,  but  was  in  reality  many  miles 
distant — ^two  such  strips  lay  long  and  motionless 
across  the  water,  were  moved  suddenly  in  a  quick 
jerk,  but  were  not  extinguished,  and  three  search- 
lights shot  upwards,  waved  uneasy  arms  in  the  dark 
sky.  "Dover  1"  said  Von  Breltmiiller.  They  raced 
on  undiscovered,  leaving  the  searchlights  well  away 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  89 

to  port — behind  them.  Half  an  hour  passed.  Von 
Breitmiiller  raised  himself  slightly. 

"Observation!"  he  said  to  Steinhauer;  to  Otto: 
"General  supervision  of  the  ship  I  Keep  in  touch 
with  me." 

The  two  young  men  left  the  comparative  warmth 
of  the  control-car,  stumbled  along  the  gangway  in 
an  icy  blackness,  feeling  more  distinctly  the  gentle 
heave  and  pitch  of  the  ship,  realising  her  effort  in 
the  numbing  vibration  of  the  rod-supports  as  they 
clung  to  them.  The  vast  rattling  roar  of  the  pro- 
pellers would  have  drowned  any  attempt  at  speech. 
They  reached  the  spot  where  the  observation-car 
was  slung  under  the  drums  of  steel  wire.  The  cower- 
ing, shivering  attendant  roused  himself.  The  man- 
hole was  uncovered.  Fritz  switched  on  the  light 
below  for  an  instant;  then,  after  an  intense  grip 
of  his  comrade's  hand  in  the  darkness,  slipped  in, 
stretched  himself.  The  manhole  was  replaced.  An 
electric  bell  rang.  The  man  pulled  a  lever  and  in- 
stantly the  drums  began  to  revolve,  slowly  at  first, 
then  ever  more  swiftly,  paying  out  endlessly  the  thin, 
strong  cables.  Without  the  experience  of  his  prac- 
tice-flights Otto  would  have  realised  the  frightful, 
dizzy  swing  of  the  little  car  suspended  far  below 
from  the  jerky,  distressful  toss  it  imparted  to  the 
entire  ship. 

Sharp  bells  rang  simultaneously  in  various  parts 
of  the  craft,  clear  above  the  roar  of  her  machinery. 
"Quarters!"    Otto  hurried  along  the  gangway.    He 


90  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

found  the  machine-gunners  standing  ready,  their 
thick-gloved  hands  on  the  breech.  The  bomb- 
droppers  were  alert,  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  glow- 
illumined  indicator,  the  levers  ready  grasped.  The 
searchlight-operator  crouched  behind  the  great  bar- 
rel-lens on  the  swivel-mounting.  Yet  the  leviathan 
pulsed  onward,  dark,  emitting  no  sound  other  than 
her  familiar  roar,  tossing  jerkily  with  the  pendulum- 
swing  of  the  car  swaying  many  feet  below,  rushing 
towards  a  fateful  moment. 

Otto  hastened  from  point  to  point.  His  deck  in- 
spection finished,  he  glanced  over  the  rail.  Below 
him  all  was  dark,  but  in  that  tenebrous  depth  he 
discerned  a  sinuous  strip  of  even  more  intense  black- 
ness that  stretched  widening  to  a  point  beneath  him 
in  sharp  curves — ^the  River  Thames !  Flushed  with 
excitement,  he  sprang  up  the  narrow  ladder  which 
passed  through  the  gas-envelope  in  a  vertical  climb 
to  the  machine-gun  platform  above. 

He  emerged  into  an  intense  cold  and  a  spectacle 
of  strangely  large  stars  in  a  numberless  multitude 
that  seemed  to  crackle  as  they  twinkled  in  unearthly 
brilliance  on  a  dark  blue  background.  The  heaven 
was  thicksown  with  them  from  zenith  to  the  low 
horizon.  From  its  depths  the  beam  of  light  that 
had  left  its  origin  in  the  days  of  Charlemagne  fell 
now  upon  this  strange  product  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury rushing  softly  silvern  through  the  radiant  night 
to  annihilate  a  moment  or  two  in  the  brief  lives  of 
pygmies  such  as  those  who  made  her.     But  Otto 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  91 

had  no  thought  beyond  the  immediate.  He  has- 
tened to  the  two  machine-gun  crews,  assured  him- 
self of  their  readiness.  Then  he  went  to  the  inward- 
curving  bulwark  of  bullet-proof  steel  that  enclosed 
the  platform.  A  rush  of  bitterly  cold  wind  smote 
him  as  though  he  had  run  into  a  wall.  He  drew 
back,  gasping. 

In  front  of  him  the  broad  aluminium  carapace  of 
the  leviathan  stretched  featureless,  falling  away  to 
the  sides,  and  far  ahead  at  the  nose,  in  gentle  curves, 
nowhere  dead  straight.  Beyond  it  was  the  star- 
studded  night,  through  which  they  drove  with  sag- 
ging, straining  rise  and  fall.  Up  here,  intercepted 
by  the  vast  bulk  of  the  envelope,  the  roar  of  the 
engines  was  not  so  loud,  but  no  other  sound  came 
to  dispute  its  pre-eminence.  Suddenly,  as  he  gazed, 
he  saw  the  swift  leap  of  a  reddish  reflection.  A 
second  later,  searchlights,  bundles  of  them  with  di- 
vergent shafts,  shot  up  into  the  sky  far  ahead  and 
to  the  right  and  left.  They  moved,  ferreting; with 
long  white  fingers  among  the  stars.  In  their  midst 
twinkling  yellow  points  of  flame  lived  for  an  instant, 
were  constantly  reborn.  Simultaneously  with  a  sec- 
ond leaping  flash  came  the  rumbling,  double  detona- 
tion of  its  predecessor,  heard  through  the  roar  of 
the  hurrying  engines.  Thrilled,  Otto  clutched  the 
rim  of  the  bulwark,  crouched  to  escape  the  blast  of 
wind,  and  gazed. 

The  first  squadron  was  in  action.  Red  flash  after 
red  flash  leaped  skyward  over  a  wide  area.     From 


92  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

those  to  the  right  of  him,  far,  far  down,  he  could 
glimpse  the  brief  yellow  germ  of  the  explosive.  The 
roll  of  their  heavy  detonations  was  continuous  from 
spasm  to  spasm.  And  ever  the  questing  search- 
lights moved  their  long  white  fingers  across  the 
sky,  now  jerking  away  Independently  in  a  vain  hope 
of  the  quarry,  now  clustering  together,  a  waiting 
menace  that  suddenly  dissolved  and  swept  the  heav- 
ens anew.  Continuously  among  them,  larger  and  ever 
larger  as  the  ship  rushed  onward,  flashed  the  little 
yellow  stars  of  the  shrapnel-bursts.  Suddenly  a 
dozen  searchlights  swung  round.  Poised  on  the  tip 
of  a  converging  steeple  of  white  beams,  like  an  egg- 
shell on  a  cunning  water-jet,  the  long  white  body  of 
an  airship  gleamed  ghostlike  in  the  sky.  The  yel- 
low shrapnel-stars  multiplied  themselves  furiously 
around,  below,  above  her.  From  the  depths  be- 
neath her  leaped  red  flash  upon  flash  in  savage  re- 
taliation— a  rolling,  heavy  thunder  of  detonations. 
She  swung  round,  jumped  vertically  in  her  effort  to 
escape  the  deadly  glare.  Her  long  body  inclined  out 
of  the  horizontal — ^nose  upward — whether  through 
injury  or  because  she  climbed,  Otto  could  not  tell. 
The  searchlights  held  her. 

A  vivid  yellow  flash,  a  simultaneous  sharp  crack, 
in  the  air  to  his  right,  level  with  him,  snatched  him 
from  the  vision.  Other  sharp  cracks,  whose  flashes 
he  could  not  see,  followed.  Glancing  over  the  bul- 
wark, he  perceived  a  faint  white  milky  radiance 
veiling  the  black  depths,  issuing  from  immediately 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  93 

below.  Through  it  he  saw,  far  away  to  starboard, 
the  white  eye  of  another  searchlight  spring  into  bril- 
liance, swing  its  long  beam  towards  them.  They 
were  discovered  I  As  he  sprang  to  the  hatchway  he 
saw  the  machine-guns  and  their  crews  silhouetted 
black  in  the  blinding  whiteness.  He  swung  himself 
down  the  manhole  to  the  ladder  in  desperate  haste, 
the  necessity  of  immediate  report  to  the  commander 
urgent  within  him. 

He  slid  rather  than  climbed  down  the  steep,  nar- 
row ladder.  Here  in  the  darkness  between  the  un- 
seen ballonets,  walled  in  from  all  vision,  a  great  fear 
— not  for  himself,  but  for  the  ship — surged  up  in 
him.  The  pulsing  vibrations  of  the  ladder,  the  noise 
of  the  engines — here  a  ringing  roar — reassured  him 
that  she  still  lived.  A  pitch  and  roll  and  giddy 
swerve  told  him  that  she  manoeuvred.  The  imag- 
ined splitting  flashes  of  shrapnel-bursts  outside  the 
frail  envelope  haunted  him  as  he  clambered  down 
with  frantic  haste. 

He  dropped  onto  the  narrow  gangway.  All  was 
still  dark,  though  dimly  light  by  comparison  with 
the  blackness  from  which  he  had  emerged.  They 
had  dodged  the  beam.  But  the  horizon  was  latticed 
with  waving,  moving  searchlights.  From  the  depths 
below  they  shot  up  like  nests  of  broad  white  spears. 
From  below  also,  but  ahead  of  them,  the  vivid  red 
flashes  leaped  up  without  cessation  in  widespread 
fans  of  lurid  light.  And,  grimly  significant,  far,  far 
below,  he  saw  the  fierce  glow,  the  rolling  smother, 


94  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

of  buildings  In  a  blaze.  Despite  the  overpowering 
noise  of  the  ship's  engines,  the  detonations  came  to 
him  in  a  continuous  dull,  shuddering  thunder.  He 
thought  he  heard  the  sharp  cracks  of  anti-aircraft 
guns. 

As  he  ran  along  the  gangway  to  the  control-car 
he  saw  a  gleam  of  something  swooping  hawklike 
through  the  night  sky,  rushing  down  to  meet  them, 
bows-on.  He  shouted  a  warning  to  the  machine- 
gunners,  forgetful  that  they  could  not  hear.  But 
they  also  had  seen.  There  was  a  sharp  crackle  of 
reports,  spitting  flames — ^the  aeroplane  and  they 
whizzed  past  each  other.  *'Look  out!'*  he  shouted 
to  the  gunners,  useless  though  it  was.  The  aeroplane 
had  turned,  was  sweeping  down  upon  them  again, 
racing  after  them.  He  waited  in  an  agony  of  sus- 
pense for  the  bomb.  It  came  not.  Their  enemy 
had  haply  exhausted  his  supply.  The  machine  drew 
parallel  with  them.  Otto  glimpsed  the  polished, 
canoe-like  nose  of  the  nacelle,  saw  the  jutting  ma- 
chine-gun switch  towards  them,  spit  repeatedly. 
From  aft  and  centre  the  two  machine-guns  of  the 
airship  answered  in  a  fierce  duel.  The  aeroplane 
rushed  onwards,  outpacing  them — nose-dived  sud- 
denly. 

Otto  hurried  into  the  control-car.  Von  Breitmiil- 
ler  greeted  him  with  a  quiet  sardonic  smile,  looking 
up  from  the  observation-panel  in  the  floor.  He  held 
a  telephone-receiver  to  his  ear,  was  speaking  into  the 
transmitter. 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  95 

"Yes — ^yes,"  he  said,  ''I  understand — no,  wait  for 
the  intersection  of  the  streets — the  glow  will  help 

you "     Otto  imagined  his  friend  swinging  far 

below,  gazing  downward,  speaking  into  the  tele- 
phone. "Right!"  von  Breitmiiller  continued.  He 
raised  his  head,  shouted  an  order  to  the  steersman: 
^'Starboard  two  points!"  Then  again  into  the  tele- 
phone. "Don^t  wait  too  long!  Yes — yes."  He 
stretched  out  his  hand,  grasped  the  handle  of  the 
telegraph  to  the  engines,  pulled  it  over  with  a  clang. 
There  was  a  sudden  silence.  The  engines  had 
stopped.  They  were  floating  forward  on  their  im- 
petus. The  noise  of  their  consorts'  bombs  surged 
up  to  them  in  a  thunder  of  reiterated  shocks. 

Telephone  to  his  ear,  von  Breitmiiller  laid  his 
hand  upon  another  telegraph — that  to  his  bomb- 
droppers — waited.  In  the  dimly-lit  control-car  was 
a  hush  of  tense  nerves.  The  stillness  of  the  ship, 
vibrationless  and  silent  after  so  long,  was  impres- 
sive. Von  Breitmiiller  spoke  again.  "Yes — ^yes." 
His  fingers  settled  themselves  in  a  grasp  upon  the 
handle  of  the  telegraph — paused.  He  jerked  it 
suddenly  over.  Otto  glanced  down  through  the 
observation-panel,  fascinated.  From  the  black 
depth  below  leaped  a  spout  of  livid  red  flame — an- 
other and  another.  The  airship  jumped  and 
quivered,  rocked  in  the  crashes  of  the  explosions. 
Yon  Breitmiiller  knelt  impassive  upon  the  floor, 
spoke  into  the  telephone,  looked  up  to  Otto.  "Tar- 
get!" he  said,  with  grim  delight.     He  spoke  again 


96  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

to  the  observer.  *'No — take  your  line  from  the 
river — can  you  make  out  the  bridges? — right — it's 
about  eight  hundred  yards  from  that  point."  He 
spoke  as  though  he  carried  a  map  of  the  hated  City 
in  his  head.  "Yes — that's  the  direction — right." 
He  clanged  the  engine-room  telegraph  once  more. 
Once  more  the  rattling  roar  awoke,  but  this  time 
diminished,  at  half-speed.  He  shouted  an  order  to 
the  steersman — a  blinding  white  glare  shot  up 
through  the  observation-panel,  illuminated  the  cabin. 

For  one  second  the  commander  bent  over  the 
panel,  his  sardonic  features  strongly  accentuated  in 
the  unearthly  glare,  looking  like  an  evil  magician 
cowering  over  a  devil's  cauldron.  Then  he  sprang 
to  his  feet,  switched  the  engine-telegraph  on  to  full 
speed,  shouted  order  upon  order  to  the  steersman. 
The  ship  leaped  and  shook  in  a  roar  of  machinery, 
swung  and  lurched  with  an  inclined  floor.  But  still 
the  glare  shot  up  through  the  observation-panel, 
dazzling  any  attempt  at  downward  vision.  Another 
beam  smote  suddenly  upon  the  side-windows.  The 
features  of  all  in  the  cabin  were  grotesquely  thrown 
into  relief  by  the  pitiless  white  blaze. 

The  commander  spoke  into  the  telephone  again. 
**No— no — don't  bother — I  must  lighten  her  any- 
way." 

He  clanged  the  telegraph  to  the  bomb-droppers 
repeatedly,  savagely.  From  below  the  blasts  of  the 
recklessly-flung  missiles  rushed  up  to  them,  but  the 
flashes  were  masked  by  the  steady  brilliance  of  the 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  97 

unwavering  searchlights.  Otto  glanced  at  the  ane- 
roid, saw  the  needle  jump.  The  ship  shot  up  to 
greater  altitudes.  Through  the  frosted  windows  he 
saw  the  gleam  of  quick  yellow  flashes,  caught  sharp 
detonations  in  the  general  roar.  There  was  a  louder 
one — a  shudder  of  the  ship.  Von  Breltmiiller  was 
shouting  Into  the  telephone.  "Stelnhauerl  Steln- 
hauerl"  he  called.  He  looked  up,  his  face  anxious. 
"Go  and  see  what  has  happened." 

Otto  went  out.  The  long  under-body  of  the  en- 
velope gleamed  white  above  him,  the  rod-slung 
gangway  was  startlingly  Illumined.  In  the  air  all 
round  the  shrapnel  lit  and  cracked  Incessantly.  He 
heard  a  fragment  whiz  past  his  head.  He  hurried 
to  the  windlasses  of  the  observation-car.  They  were 
gone!  A  shell  had  evidently  burst  right  between 
them,  hurled  them  from  their  mountings.  He  stood 
motionless  for  a  second,  paralysed  with  horror  at 
the  fate  of  his  comrade.  He  saw  the  sister — Elsa — 
looking  Into  his  eyes.  Then,  mastering  himself  with 
a  spasm  of  will,  he  glanced  upward — saw  a  great 
black  rent  In  the  white  envelope. 

A  moment  later  three  well-placed  shells  burst 
with  vicious  flashes  at  different  points  along  the  deck. 
The  ship  tossed,  lay  over,  lost  her  level  keel.  The 
noise  of  her  engines  diminished,  altered  in  charac- 
ter. With  experienced  ear,  he  realised  that  one  was 
running  free,  that  another  had  ceased  to  work.  The 
ship  sagged  all  awry,  swerved,  and  pitched.     He 


98  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

had  to  clutch  the  rail  to  maintain  his  footing.     He 
wondered  whether  she  were  falling. 

Another  and  another  shell  struck  her,  yet  still  the 
terrible  burst  of  flame  he  feared — looked  for  at  each 
moment — was  withheld.  The  hostile  guns  below 
had  got  her  range  exactly  on  a  parallax  of  search- 
lights. The  shells  burst  all  round — again  and  again 
upon  the  deck.  He  felt  the  gangway  quivering  loose 
under  his  feet.  He  was  sure  that  already  some 
shells  had  burst  inside  the  envelope — by  a  miracle, 
had  not  exploded  the  ballonets.  Trembling,  he  has- 
tened back  to  the  control-car,  clambering  over 
broken  stanchions,  swinging  himself  in  one  instance 
with  frenzied,  unconscious  courage  across  a  sheer 

gap. 

He  found  his  superior  shouting  a  message  to  the 
telephonist  for  repetition  to  the  wireless  operator. 
He  reported  their  disaster  to  the  flagship.  Otto  gave 
him  additional  details.  Cool  and  sardonic,  von 
Breitmiiller  listened,  repeated  the  information  in 
succinct,  ofllicial  language  to  the  telephonist. 

The  message  was  interrupted  by  a  priority  call 
from  the  machine-gun  platform  on  top  of  the  en- 
velope. The  Unteroffizier  in  charge  reported  a  con- 
certed aeroplane  attack,  appealed  for  manoeuvres  to 
assist  in  beating  it  off. 

Von  Breitmiiller  shook  his  head  with  a  grim  smile. 
He  turned  to  Otto,  who  stood  clutching  the  doorpost 
in  an  effort  to  keep  himself  upright. 

"Go  up  and  take  charge.    Fight  to  the  last !"    His 


THE  TERROR  IN  THE  SKY  99 

eyes  flashed.  "We  should  be  proud  to  die  amid  the 
ruins  of  our  foes."  Otto  glanced  at  the  blanched 
faces  of  the  steersman  and  the  telephonist.  "Don't 
grudge  your  life,  boy.  We  are  only  the  vanguard. 
Our  comrades  follow  us  in  swarms  to  rain  down  fire 
and  hatred  for  our  vengeance.  England!  England 
ich  hasse  dichl  Our  death  shall  be  a  fiery  curse  from 
heaven!"  The  man's  face  was  that  of  a  fanatic 
at  the  stake.  "Go,  boy !"  he  finished.  "Good-bye !" 
He  pressed  his  hand.  Outside,  the  shrapnel  crashed 
and  crashed. 

As  Otto  left  the  car  he  heard  the  commander 
order  the  telephonist  to  release  all  the  bombs.  The 
bombers  had  been  killed,  then ! 

Once  more  he  scrambled  hurriedly  along  the  gang- 
way, not  giving  a  glance  to  the  scene  around,  below 
him.  But,  subconsciously,  he  was  aware  that  the 
other  ships  of  the  squadron  were  continuing  the  at- 
tack— were  meeting  a  fierce  defence.  He  swung 
himself  up  on  to  the  ladder  through  the  envelope, 
no  longer  vertically  above  him,  and  stopped,  checked 
by  a  smell  of  gas.  With  quick  decision  he  thrust  a 
handkerchief  into  his  mouth  and  climbed. 

He  emerged,  with  bursting  lungs,  on  to  the  plat- 
form— saw  one  gun  only  spitting  fire;  two  men 
crouched  beside  It.  He  ran  to  assist.  As  he  went, 
something  swooped  with  an  angry  whirr,  low  down, 
close  overhead — shot  away.  There  was  a  blinding 
flash,  a  loud  double  roar,  a  sheet  of  awful  flame. 

The  leviathan  tilted,  hung  almost  vertical;  great 


100  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

tongues  of  flame,  rolling  black  smoke,  licked  upward. 
With  a  blind  Instinct  he  caught  at  the  bulwark  to 
prevent  himself  slipping,  shielded  his  face  from  an 
intense  heat.  A  man  yet  clinging  to  the  machine- 
gun  below  him  let  go  his  hold. 

Wrapped  in  flame,  the  leviathan  drifted,  slowly 
sinking,  a  fiery  terror  in  the  sky. 


PANZERKRAPTWAGEN 

HAUPTMANN  VON  WALDHOFER,  Bat- 
teriechef  of  the  — th  Battery  Fussartillerie, 
stood,  helmeted  and  with  buttoned  coat,  hastily  sip- 
ping a  cup  of  steaming  hot  coffee  in  his  dugout. 
The  electric  light,  fed  from  the  power  station  at 
Cambrai,  miles  back,  illumined  a  cosy  little  apart- 
ment. Portraits  of  the  Kaiser  and  Von  Hinden- 
burg  looked  stifHy  from  the  matchboarded  walls  in 
the  incongruous  company  of  a  medley  of  coloured 
pages  from  Simplicissimus,  Jugend,  and,  quaintly 
enough,  the  Vie  Parisienne,  One  side  was  fully  oc- 
cupied by  an  enormous,  large-scale  map  of  the 
Somme  area,  divided  into  numbered  squares,  heavily 
scored  with  blue  pencil  here  and  there,  across  which 
ran  a  great  curve  of  red  lines  massed  in  intricate 
pattern — the  enemy  trenches — and  radiating,  pin- 
supported,  coloured  threads  from  the  point  slightly 
E.  S.  E.  of  Flers,  fanwise,  far  across  the  opposing 
lines.  The  battery-made  bed,  wire  mesh  stretched 
over  a  wooden  frame,  sloping  slightly  from  the  head 
toward  the  foot,  on  which  lay  blankets  in  the  dis- 
array of  recent  use,  bulked  largely  in  the  apartment. 

lOI 


102        :       ACCOllpING  TO  ORDERS 

But.  tb^re:  was  stIlJ;  room  for  a  little  table,  on  which 
books  'send'  writing -material  were  neatly  arranged, 
and  two  comfortable,  plush-covered  armchairs,  be- 
sides the  camp  washstand  in  which  the  water  yet 
steamed.  A  carpet,  mud-stained  but  thick  and  soft 
to  the  tread,  covered  the  floor.  In  the  comer,  re- 
mote from  the  bed,  was  a  stove  whose  long  pipe 
bent  at  right  angles  below  the  roof  and  followed 
it  until  it  ascended  with  the  steep  stairway  at  the 
entrance.  The  deliberate  comfort  of  the  dugout 
indicated  long  residence  and  the  expectation  of  an 
indefinite  stay.  Only  the  pick  and  shovel  in  readi- 
ness by  the  door  gave  a  hint  of  possible  cataclysm. 

An  orderly  stood  stiiHy  at  attention  while  his  mas- 
ter finished  his  coffee.  The  captain  put  down  the 
cup. 

"What  time  is  it?'*  he  asked  sharply. 

"A  quarter  to  seven, ^  Herr  Hauptmann." 

"What  sort  of  morning?'* 

"Clear,  Herr  Hauptmann,  but  very  cold.'' 

"Any  aeroplanes?" 

"None  over  the  battery,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

The  captain  gave  a  final  glance  at  himself  in  the 
French  wall  mirror  which  hung  over  the  table, 
touched  lightly  with  his  finger  tips  the  black-and- 
white  ribbon  of  the  Iron  Cross  upon  his  breast,  as 
though  flicking  away  a  speck  of  dust,  and  turned  to 
go.     As  he  went,  the  hanging  calendar  caught  his 

6.45  a.  m.  German  summer  time.  5.45  a.  m.  English  summer 
time.  4.45  a.  m.  Greenwich  time.  The  summer  time  was  used 
in  all   the  armies. 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  103 

eye.  He  tore  off  the  top  leaf.  The  date  revealed 
was  September  15,  19 16. 

He  climbed,  with  the  heavy  step  of  an  oldish  man, 
the  narrow,  steep,  thirty-tread  stairway,  and  emerged 
into  the  cold  blue  sky  of  a  clear  dawn.  Around  him 
was  bare,  rolling  country.  About  half  a  mile  di- 
rectly in  front  of  him,  the  village  of  Flers  huddled 
Itself  among  thin  trees,  its  skeleton  roofs  silhouetted 
against  the  blue.  Between  him  and  it,  but  close  at 
hand  in  a  slight  depression  of  the  ground,  the  four 
105  mm.^  guns  of  his  battery  stood,  spaced  and  si- 
lent, under  veils  of  a  gauzelike  material  tufted  with 
green  and  brown  that  blended  well  with  the  terrain. 
Inconspicuous  even  to  a  side  view,  thus  covered,  they 
were  invisible  from  above.  Near  them  were  stacks 
of  ammunition,  also  shrouded.  Save  for  a  sentry, 
the  guns  were  deserted.  The  personnel  of  the  bat- 
tery was  lined  up  in  two  queues,  where  the  smoke 
of  a  couple  of  field  kitchens  betokened  breakfast. 

The  battery  dugouts  were  excavated  in  the  breast 
of  a  slight  swelling  of  the  downs,  their  exits  look- 
ing N.  W.,  on  the  flank  of  the  gun  positions.  The 
battery  commander  stood  for  a  moment,  surveying 
his  little  community,  banded  together  for  the  serv- 
ice of  the  four  squat,  veiled  idols  lying,  unhuman 
and  aloof  from  the  domestic  needs  of  men.  Then, 
following  his  morning  habit,  he  turned  and  climbed 
the  little  rise  of  ground.  On  his  accustomed  view- 
point, he  stopped  and  gazed  westward.    Before  him, 

*The  well-known  4.2"  gun. 


104.  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

clear  in  the  cold,  early  light,  the  undulating  downs 
gathered  themselves  into  a  long,  fairly  regular  ridge, 
some  two  miles  distant  at  the  summit.  A  maze  of 
communication  and  support  trenches,  just  visible, 
crisscrossed  their  white  lines  in  the  chalk  of  the 
hither  slope.  On  the  sky  line  of  the  ridge  directly 
west,  a  large  clump  of  bare,  shell-sharpened  tree 
stumps  broke  its  emptiness.  It  was  the  Bois  de  Fou- 
reaux — known  to  the  British  army  as  High  Wood. 
Farther  south,  a  similar  group  of  stumps  spiked  up 
into  the  sky — the  Bois  de  Delville — Devil's  Wood. 

That  clean-swept  landscape  mounting  to  the  deso- 
late sky  line  was  the  great,  dominant  fact  in  his 
existence.  Ever  concrete  in  his  mind,  it  claimed  his 
first  waking  vision,  even  as  the  weather  horizon 
claims  the  first  heed  of  the  sailor  or  Vesuvius  the 
morning  glance  of  the  Neapolitan.  This  morning  it 
lay  cloudless,  save  for  the  towering  smoke  of  an 
occasional  shell  burst  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Bois  de 
Foureaux,  and  strangely  quiet.  The  whole  wide 
stretch  would  have  seemed  untenanted  by  man  had 
it  not  been  for  the  occasional  primrose  twinkle  of 
a  field  gun's  flash.  The  reports  of  such  guns  came 
in  isolated  slams  at  varying  intervals.  To  his  right, 
an  English  shell  hurried,  with  a  long-drawn  whine, 
to  burst  heavily  in  Flers.  Far  back,  several  enemy 
aeroplanes,  tiny  specks  in  the  cold  blue  sky  yellowing 
to  the  dawn,  were  dodging  like  midges  among  a 
smother  of  little  brown  shell  puffs.  From  overhead 
came  the  drone  of  a  German  machine.    But,  by  con- 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  105 

trast  with  the  frequent  uproar  which  welled  out  of 
this  region  to  translate  itself  into  long  thick  smoke 
along  the  ridge,  the  scene  was  curiously  clear  and 
silent. 

Satisfied  with  his  scrutiny,  the  captain  turned  and 
descended  again  to  the  battery  position.  He  passed 
along  the  line  of  dugouts  in  the  flank  of  the  rise 
until  he  reached  one  whose  entrance  bore  the  notice, 
**Fernsprecher  und  Befehls  U  titer  stand j^  ^  neatly 
painted  on  a  board.  The  oberfeldwebel  standing  at 
the  doorway  sprang  to  a  precise,  heel-clicking  salute. 
The  officer  acknowledged  it  curtly  and  dived  into  the 
dugout 

Here  yellow  electric  light  replaced  the  cool  grey 
dawn,  and  tobacco  smoke  floated  in  long  wreaths 
about  the  bulb.  A  young  lieutenant,  seated  at  the 
telephone  instrument  on  the  table,  took  the  pipe  out 
of  his  mouth  and  rose  smartly  as  his  superior  en- 
tered. 

"Good  morning,  Eberstein,"  said  the  captain. 
**Anything  fresh?" 

"Nothing,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  replied  the  lieuten- 
ant respectfully. 

"Nothing  of  this  rumoured  attack?" 

"Nothing." 

The  captain  seated  himself  heavily  at  the  table, 
and  the  lieutenant  was  at  liberty  to  resume  his  chair. 

"And  that  frightful  bombardment  all  last  night, 

*  Telephone  and  command  dugout. 


106  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Eberstein,  what  do  you  make  of  it?"  he  asked,  as 
he  lit  a  cigarette. 

The  mouth  under  the  fair  moustache  of  the  young 
lieutenant  twisted  into  a  contemptuous  smile. 

"Bah  I  The  Englanders  want  to  make  us  nervous 
or  to  persuade  themselves  that  their  wonderful 
*great  push'  is  not  played  out." 

The  captain  blew  out  a  long  puff  of  smoke  and 
nodded  his  head  in  dubious  thought. 

"And  you  think  it  is  ?" 

Von  Waldhofer,  a  man  of  somewhat  deliberate 
mental  processes,  was  never  unwilling  to  discuss 
general  topics  with  his  subordinate.  Eberstein's 
cheering,  if  crude,  optimism  was  a  welcome  stimulus 
to  him. 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  the  lieutenant.  "Since  the 
first  rush,  they  have  been  practically  fought  to  a 
standstill.  Here  it  is  two  and  a  half  months  since 
the  offensive  began,  and  where  are  they?  Now,  in 
one  week  on  the  Donajetz,  we " 

"Yes,  I  know,  Eberstein,"  his  superior  interrupted 
him.  "You  did  wonders.  But  it  is  the  Somme  and 
not  the  Donajetz  that  interests  us  now."  He  re- 
moved his  helmet  and  passed  his  hand  wearily  over  a 
high,  semibald  brow.  "I  wish  I  could  be  as  certain 
as  you."  He  stopped,  then  broke  out  again,  with  the 
overemphasis  of  a  man  wearied  with  long  brooding 
over  a  problem:  "The  colonel  was  so  positive  last 
night  I  And  he  had  just  come  from  the  general  staff. 
At  dawn,  he  said,  we  might  expect  it.    I  can't  make 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  107 

it  out.  All  night  that  frightful  bombardment, 
obviously  preparation — until  just  now.  Then  this 
quiet!  I  feel  something  Is  coming."  He  shook  his 
head.     *'We  are  much  too  near  In  this  position." 

"If  they  come,  so  much  the  better!"  cried  Eber- 
steln.  *'We  will  annihilate  them.  But  I  do  not  for 
a  moment  believe " 

He  was  stopped  by  a  heavy,  distant  roar  that 
commenced  with  the  suddenness  of  a  thunderclap 
and  continued  in  one  never-ending  roll. 

"There  we  are !"  exclaimed  Von  Waldhofer.  He 
looked  at  his  watch.  It  marked  seven  o'clock  pre- 
cisely— six  a.  m.  English  summer  time. 

A  moment  later  the  telephone  bell  rang  In  an 
excavated  offshoot  of  the  main  dugout.  The  or- 
derly on  duty  there  answered  the  call.  "Message 
from  the  observation  officer!"  he  announced,  in  a 
loud  voice. 

Eberstein  picked  up  the  receiver  lying  on  the  table 
in  front  of  him. 

"Yes?" 

"Intense  artillery  fire,  all  calibres,  upon  entire 
sector.  Whole  front  being  heavily  bombarded.  In- 
fantry attack  expected  momentarily." 

Eberstein  repeated  the  message,  and,  ere  he  had 
finished,  the  battery  commander  had  sprung  to  the 
door  of  the  dugout,  shouting  his  orders.  He  heard 
them  megaphoned  on  by  the  sergeant  major  above. 
Out  there  In  the  first  rays  of  the  sun,  the  four  squat 
idols  had  shaken  aside  their  veils,  lay  surrounded 


108  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

by  tensely  waiting  acolytes.  The  moment  of  their 
dread  speech  was  at  hand. 

In  the  electric-lit  dugout  the  two  officers  sat  si- 
lently listening  to  the  distant  storm.  It  rolled  in 
one  unnerving,  continuous  thunder.  Not  their  duty 
was  it  to  reply.  They  were  detailed  for  barrage 
upon  a  particular  sector.  But  near  at  hand  the  heavy 
detonations  of  guns  told  off  for  counter-battery  work 
followed  one  another  ever  more  quickly.  Near  at 
hand,  too,  came  the  long  whine  and  crash  of  Eng- 
lish counter-battery  shells  hurled  in  reply. 

Again  the  bell  rang,  and  again  the  telephone  or- 
derly called  out : 

"Speak  to  battalion  commander,  please !"  ^ 

This  time  Von  Waldhofer  picked  up  the  receiver 
himself. 

'7^,  ja!  We  are  all  ready!"  he  said.  *Tes,  it 
is  coming  this  time.  No,  no  further  message.  Oh, 
yes,  we  are  in  communication.  No?  Have  you 
heard  anything  definite?  No.  I  wonder  if  there's 
any  truth  in  it.  Good-bye."  He  put  down  the  re- 
ceiver and  turned  to  Eberstein,  stopping  for  a  mo- 
ment to  listen  to  the  roll  of  the  hostile  bombard- 
ment. 

"That  old  story  again !  You  remember  we  heard 
it  before  the  first  of  July — some  wonderful  inven- 
tion the  Englanders  are  supposed  to  have  for  anni- 
hilating us  all.    I  wonder  if  there  is  anything  in  it?'* 

'German  heavy  artillery  is  organized  in    "bataillons"  of  four 
batteries. 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  109 

The  lieutenant  laughed  mockingly. 

"The  Englanders  invent  anything?  Not  they! 
Besides,  I  don't  believe  In  the  possibility  of  any  new 
invention  to  revolutionise  war.  Just  think  I  Here 
have  all  the  nations  of  the  world  been  fighting  for 
two  years,  and  what  new  inventions  have  we  seen? 
None !  There  have  been  perfections  and  the  redis- 
covery of  old  methods — that's  all.  What  is  the 
Zeppelin  but  a  perfected  Montgolfier?  It  Is  neither 
the  first  nor  the  only  dirigible,  even  I  Poison  gas  and 
liquid  fire — what  are  they  but  the  stinkpots  of  Greek 
fire  of  the  Middle  Ages,  rediscovered  and  brought 
up  to  date  ?  There  is  nothing,  can  be  nothing,  really 
newl*' 

Von  Waldhofer  shook  his  head.  "Nevertheless, 
these  rumours  are  so  persistent.  They  are  vague, 
I  admit.  Yet  where  there  is  so  much  smoke  there 
is  generally  a  fire.  We  are  very  close  here.  Just 
listen  to  that  bombardment!'' 

For  a  moment  or  two  both  officers  sat  silent  again, 
listening  to  the  roll  of  awful  menace.  Then  Von 
Waldhofer  shouted  an  order  to  the  telephonist: 

"Get  through  to  the  observation  oflicer  I" 

Almost  immediately  the  orderly  called  out: 

"Speaking,  Herr  Hauptmann !" 

Von  Waldhofer  picked  up  the  receiver. 

"What  is  happening?" 

"The  bombardment  is  continuing,"  came  the  reply. 
"Much  damage  is  being  done  to  the  trenches.    Some 


110  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

sectors  are  almost  obliterated.  My  wire  has  already 
been  cut  twice." 

"No  infantry  attack?" 

"Not  yet.    This  is  evidently  preparatory." 

"Keep  me  informed,"  said  Von  Waldhofer,  and 
put  down  the  receiver.  He  turned  to  Eberstein. 
"Well,  we  shall  soon  see." 

The  roll  of  the  hostile  artillery  ceased  as  though 
controlled  by  a  single  volition,  remained  silent  for 
a  few  seconds,  and  then,  with  one  thunder  surge  of 
sound,  recommenced. 

"The  barrage  has  lifted!"  cried  Von  Waldhofer. 
He  raised  his  voice  to  be  heard  by  the  oberfeldwebel 
who  waited,  megaphone  in  hand,  his  legs  visible  half- 
way down  the  dugout  steps.  *'A11  ready,  sergeant 
major?" 

"All  ready,  Herr  Hauptmann." 

The  telephone  bell  rang  again  in  the  dugout. 

"Message  from  the  observation  officer!"  pro- 
claimed the  orderly. 

Von  Waldhofer  snatched  up  the  instrument. 

"Yes?" 

"Barrage!" 

"Fire!"  shouted  Von  Waldhofer  to  the  ober- 
feldwebel. 

Eberstein  looked  at  his  watch.  The  hour  was 
seven-twenty. 

As  though  the  commanding  officer  had  pressed  an 
electric  firing  button,  the  four  heavy  crashes  of  his 
guns  followed,  merging  into  each  other,  renewed  in 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  111 

a  never-ending  chain  of  detonations  as  fast  as  the 
crews  could  load,  relay,  and  fire.  A  constant  stream 
of  4.2"  shells  was  rushing  from  the  battery  to  fall 
in  a  narrow  area  at  the  predetermined  range.  But, 
loud  as  were  the  violent  concussions  of  the  guns  close 
at  hand,  they  were  but  one  element  in  the  chaos  of 
frenzied  sound  that  had  leaped  from  the  whole  coun- 
tryside at  the  moment  of  their  first  report.  Every 
German  battery  was  firing  at  its  maximum  intensity. 
On  the  background  of  the  dull  roar  of  the  English 
guns  danced  the  rapid  reports  of  the  quick-firers 
at  full  pressure  of  urgency,  and  surged  ponderously 
the  double  thuds  of  the  howitzers  and  the  sharper, 
louder  crash  of  the  heavies,  blended  without  a  mo- 
ment's interval  into  one  unceasing  peal.  The  rifle 
fire  from  the  trenches  was  inaudible,  swallowed  up. 

Von  Waldhofer  sat  with  one  telephone  receiver 
pressed  to  his  ear.  Eberstein  picked  up  the  other. 
They  heard  the  observation  officer's  voice  faintly. 

"What?"  shouted  Von  Waldhofer  into  the  instru- 
ment. 

"Something  is  coming — something  strange — I 
cannot  see  well,  there  is  so  much  smoke — something 

— slow  and  crawling — a  machine — firing "  The 

voice  ceased  abruptly. 

Von  Waldhofer  and  his  lieutenant  looked  at  one 
another. 

"The  wire  has  gone!"  cried  Eberstein.  He  had 
to  shout  to  be  heard  in  the  din. 

"Let  us  hope  it  is  only  that,"  replied  his  chief. 


112  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Both  strove  deliberately  to  ignore  the  fear  in  the 
forefront  of  their  minds.  Von  Waldhofer  shouted 
loudly  into  the  telephone :  "Kurt!  Kurt  I  Are  you 
there?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

Outside  the  dugout,  the  battery  was  still  firing 
furiously,  would  continue  to  do  so  until  it  received 
fresh  orders.  The  general  uproar  had  abated  not 
at  all,  had,  if  anything,  intensified.  Into  the  welter 
of  sound  came  a  familiar,  heart-stopping,  hissing 
rush,  followed  by  a  loud  crash.  Another  and  an- 
other and  another  swooped  down  on  the  heels  of  the 
first.  An  English  60  pr.  battery  was  searching  for 
their  position.  But  the  two  officers,  fascinated  by 
the  mysterious,  distant  menace  that  was  crawling 
into  their  world,  did  not  hear  and  gave  no  thought 
to  the  shells.  Once  more  Von  Waldhofer  shouted 
into  the  telephone:  "Kurt!  Kurt!"  Still  there 
came  no  answer.    The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met. 

"What  can  it  be?"  demanded  Eberstein  impa- 
tiently.   "Is  he  dreaming?" 

"Perhaps  the  wire  has  been  cut  close  here,"  said 
his  chief,  resolute,  like  a  good  soldier,  to  allow  no 
disturbing  speculations  in  this  battle  crisis.  He 
shouted  an  order  to  the  oberfeldwebel. 

The  telephone  bell  rang  sharply. 

"Order  from  the  battalion  commander!"  an- 
nounced the  telephonist. 

Von  Waldhofer  was  already  listening. 

"Yes?" 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  IIS 

^^Feindliche  Panzerkraftwagen  ^  iihersteigen  die 
Schiitzengraben  Punkt  C  32  J4./.  So  fort  Feuer 
dagegen  mit  alter  Kraft  eroffnenP*  ("Enemy  ar- 
moured motor  cars  are  crossing  the  trenches  at  point 
C  32  d4.I.  Open  heaviest  possible  fire  upon  them 
immediately!") 

The  battery  commander  sprang  to  a  little  table, 
outspread  with  a  large-scale  map  upon  which  lay 
protractor  and  dividers.  A  second  or  two  of  hasty 
calculation,  and  he  shouted  his  orders  to  the  ober- 
f  eldwebel : 

"Cease  fire !  All  guns  twenty  degrees  more  right ! 
With  percussion  I  Left  half  at  3 1 50  metres !  Right 
half  at  3 100  metres !    Forty  rounds  battery  fire !" 

He  heard  them  repeated  in  stentorian  tones 
through  the  oberfeldwebers  megaphone.  The  rapid 
detonations  of  the  guns  ceased.  There  was  a  pause, 
a  few  seconds  only.  Then  the  voice  of  the  sergeant 
major  announced: 

"All  ready  I" 

"Fire!" 

Again  the  fury  of  the  guns  burst  forth. 

**Panzerkraftwagenr*  said  Ebersteln.  "But  sure- 
ly armoured  cars  cannot  cross  wire  entanglements 
and  trenches !    There  is  a  mistake  somewhere." 

"There  is  no  mistake  that  something  has  gone 
wrong  and  that  we  are  without  observation,"  re- 
turned Von  Waldhofer  irritably,  indisposed  to  ab- 

^  Panzerkraftwagen:  "Armoured  power  wagons"  is  the  oflficial 
German  designation  of  the  "Tanks."  The  word  is  also  applied  to 
armoured  cars. 


,114f  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

stract  argument  just  then.  The  orderly  had  once 
more  failed  to  elicit  any  response  from  the  observa- 
tion officer.  **Take  a  couple  of  men  and  a  new  in- 
strument, follow  the  wire  along  as  far  as  possible, 
get  into  a  good  position  for  observing,  and  open  up 
communication  with  the  battery — no,  wait  a  mo- 
ment!"    The  telephone  bell  was  ringing  again. 

^'Message  from  battalion  commander!"  said  the 
orderly. 

"Yes?"  Von  Waldhofer  spoke  Into  the  instrument. 
*T  am  firing  on  them  now.  No,  I  am  without  ob- 
servation. Five  minutes  ago.  Really!  What  are 
they?  Not  ordinary  cars?  Something  quite  new? 
Herr  Gott,  this  is  serious !  Yes.  Yes.  I  quite  un- 
derstand. I  am  not  to  retire  while  I  have  ammuni- 
tion. Good !  You  may  rely  on  us.  We  shall  stand 
to  the  last  man." 

He  put  down  the  receiver  and  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment in  deep  thought,  his  hand  pressed  to  his  high, 
bald  brow.  Then  he  shook  himself  alert.  He 
turned  to  Eberstein.  "Hurry!"  he  said  irritably. 
"Everything  is  at  stake!"  The  lieutenant  sprang 
up  the  stairway  and  vanished. 

Von  Waldhofer  put  on  his  helmet  and  gave  a  last 
order  to  the  telephonist  before  he  followed  his  sub- 
altern. 

"Ring  up  Captain  Pferzheim.  Tell  him  to  send 
up  every  available  round  as  quickly  as  possible. 
Urgently  required." 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  115 

Then  he  also  ran  up  the  narrow  stairway  into  the 
bright  morning  light. 

"Two  telephonists,  all  necessary  instruments,  with 
me  into  flank  observing  station  at  once  I"  he  shouted 
to  the  sergeant  major. 

He  went  swiftly  toward  the  battery.  The  last 
gun  had  just  finished  its  allotted  ten  rounds.  They 
lay  now  silent  in  their  wide-spaced  row,  smoke  up- 
curling  from  their  muzzles.  Their  attendant  crews 
stood,  coatless,  mopping  the  sweat  on  their  brows. 
Far  and  near  the  thunderous  uproar  of  the  battle 
swelled;  it  seemed  louder  than  ever,  now  that  he 
had  come  from  the  dugout  into  the  open  air.  The 
English  batteries  had  lengthened  their  range.  As 
he  walked  he  glanced  at  Flers.  It  was  whelmed  in 
fumes.  Explosion  upon  explosion  leaped  up  among 
the  huddled  houses  in  the  trees,  fragments,  timbers, 
earth  clods  momentarily  poised  upon  a  dome  of  dark 
smoke.  White  shrapnel  puffs  sprang  incessantly  into 
existence  above  the  roofs.  He  heard  the  hissing 
rush  of  an  approaching  shell  without  faltering  in 
his  pace,  so  preoccupied  was  he  with  the  urgency  of 
the  moment.  He  saw  the  quick  upspout  of  smoke, 
the  heavy  metallic  crash  came  to  his  ears.  He  noted 
only  that  it  was  well  behind  the  battery.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  officer  with  the  guns. 

"Oberleutnant  Schwarzl"  he  called,  stopping  sud- 
denly some  twenty  yards  from  the  battery. 

The  long-coated,  helmeted  lieutenant  stiffened  as 
though  galvanised,  walked  smartly  up  to  him,  sa- 


116  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

luted,  and  waited  rigidly  for  his  orders.  Ober- 
leutnant  Schwarz,  a  young,  freckle-faced  fellow,  set 
the  pattern  for  discipline  in  that  battery.  The  com- 
mander noted  the  punctilious  attitude  without  his 
wonted  inward  smile.  The  occasion  had  found  the 
man. 

"Schwarz,  communication  with  the  forward  offi- 
cer is  interrupted.  Eberstein  has  gone  to  re-estab- 
lish it,  if  possible.  I  am  going  into  the  flank  ob- 
serving station.  Orders  will  come  from  there.  Put 
the  einjahriger  into  the  telephone  dugout.  The 
situation  is  critical.  Something  has  gone  wrong.  A 
new  kind  of  armoured  car  has  broken  through  the 
trench  line.  They  must  be  stopped  at  all  costs.  The 
orders  from  the  battalion  commander  are  formal. 
The  battery  will  not  retire  while  it  has  ammunition. 
I  have  ordered  up  every  available  round.  The  bat- 
tery will  maintain  its  position,  whatever  happens, 
while  it  has  a  man  and  a  shell.    Is  that  clear?'* 

Oberleutnant  Schwarz  saluted  in  precise,  parade- 
ground  fashion. 

"Quite,  Herr  Hauptmann,**  he  replied  unemo- 
tionally. 

"If  I  become  a  casualty,  the  command  devolves 
upon  you,"  continued  Von  Waldhofer.  "Remem- 
ber, these  armoured  cars  are  your  target,  wherever 
they  can  be  fired  on.  Use  direct  laying  if  you  get 
the  opportunity."  A  flight  of  shells  burst  In  a  suc- 
cession of  heavy  crashes  on  the  swelling  ground  to 
his  right.    He  glanced  at  them.     "Keep  a  couple  of 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  IIT 

ground  men  going  over  the  wire  to  the  observing 
station.  Here,  two  of  you!"  he  shouted  suddenly  to 
some  mounted  N.  C.  O.'s  who  at  that  moment  trot- 
ted up  to  the  battery  with  a  string  of  ammunition 
limbers.  Upon  his  sign,  one  of  them  dismounted. 
The  captain  swung  himself  into  the  vacated  saddle. 
Oberleutnant  Schwarz  saluted  once  more.  Accom- 
panied by  the  other  N.  C.  O.,  the  battery  commander 
set  off  at  a  hard  gallop  up  the  rising  ground  into  the 
cloud  of  smoke  from  the  just-burst  shells. 

The  flank  observing  station  was  a  splinter-proof 
dugout  on  a  little  knoll  some  five  hundred  yards  away 
to  the  left  flank  of  the  battery.  It  had  been  con- 
structed in  provision  of  the  unexpected.  Von  Wald- 
hofer  spurred  toward  it  now  at  the  top  pace  of  his 
horse.  Despite  many  shell  bursts  on  the  ground 
and  in  the  air,  he  reached  it  safely.  Leaping  to 
earth,  he  threw  the  reins  to  his  follower  and  sent 
both  horses  back.    Then  he  dived  into  the  dugout. 

Both  telephonists  were  there,  awaiting  him.  The 
large-scale  map  was  pinned  out  on  a  board,  instru- 
ments upon  it.  The  range  finder  stood  by  the  ob- 
servation slit.  One  of  the  orderlies  was  testing  the 
telephone  communication  to  the  battery.  Von  Wald- 
hofer  pulled  his  glasses  out  of  their  case,  pressed 
himself  against  the  observation  slit,  and  looked  out. 

Directly  in  front  of  him  the  bare  ground,  with 
many  minor  undulations,  rose  steadily  to  the  shat- 
tered silhouette  of  the  Bois  de  Foureaux  on  the  sky 
line.     But  no  longer  was  the  view  clear  as  when  he 


118  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

last  had  gazed  on  it.  Over  all  lay  a  haze  which  the 
early-morning  sun  was  powerless  to  penetrate.  In 
the  foreground  and  wide  to  right  and  left  in  the 
middle  distance  spurted  and  twinkled  the  primrose 
flashes  of  the  guns,  more  rapidly  multiplied  than 
any  eye  could  count.  On  the  ridge  the  smoke  lay 
thick,  bellying  in  dark  masses  over  the  tree  stumps 
of  the  wood,  poised  on  the  horizon  in  tall,  heavy- 
headed  columns,  like  elm  trees  in  full  foliage.  In  the 
air,  long  bands  of  white  shrapnel  smoke  reached  out 
and  clung  to  each  other  in  a  lazy  drift,  while  among 
them  the  large,  dead-black  bursts  of  heavy,  high- 
explosive  shrapnel  appeared  suddenly,  darted  ahead 
from  the  round  nucleus,  and  then  unfolded  them- 
selves slowly  and  snakily  earthward.  Between  him 
and  the  ridge,  the  whole  wide  amphitheatre  was 
being  thickly  sown  with  English  shells.  Near  and 
far,  the  smoke  columns  shot  incessantly  into  the  air. 
Over  the  road  from  Flers  to  the  Bois  de  Delville, 
which  crossed  his  view  at  right  angles,  the  white 
shrapnel  puffs  clustered  in  ever-renewed  groups. 
Over  all,  English  aeroplanes  in  scores  flitted  to  and 
fro,  daringly  low,  yet  apparently  unchallenged.  No 
longer  did  this  arena  appear  untenanted.  In  every 
part  there  was  movement  and  confusion  of  Lillipu- 
tian figures.  Far  away,  three  tiny  ammunition 
wagons  raced  toward  a  battery.  Closer  at  hand, 
grey-clad  infantry  dashed  in  sections  along  the  shell- 
swept  road  from  Flers.  They  tugged  low  bomb 
carts  on  long  hand  ropes.     He  knew  subconsciously 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  119 

that  they  were  going  to  reinforce  the  great  trench 
line  that  stretched  east  and  west  from  Martinpuich 
to  Lesboeufs.  Farther  afield,  other  bands  of  grey 
midgets,  scarcely  visible,  were  rushing  forward. 
Everywhere  from  the  rim  of  battle  pressure,  grey 
figures  were  filtering  in  ragged  streams  down  toward 
the  lower  ground.  A  long  way  off,  on  that  rim,  his 
glasses  revealed  a  nodal  point  of  confusion.  He 
focused  on  it.  There  were  tiny  grey  figures, 
grouped,  in  quick  movement  to  and  fro.  Little 
smoke  dots  were  all  around  them.  Then  the  con- 
fusion cleared.  He  saw  darker  figures  running  for- 
ward, the  twinkle  of  sun  on  a  distant  bayonet.  For 
a  moment  he  held  them  under  view  anxiously.  Then 
with  an  impatient  movement  he  swept  his  glasses 
round.     Not  there  was  the  target  that  he  sought. 

Suddenly  he  arrested  his  sweep.  To  his  left,  much 
closer  to  him  than  he  had  been  looking,  a  field  bat- 
tery topped  a  little  rise,  retiring  at  full  gallop  among 
a  welter  of  shell  smoke.  It  passed  down  below  his 
vision.  His  glasses  remained  steadily  focused  on 
the  rise  over  which  it  had  come,  fascinated  by  the 
abnormality,  expectant  of  the  cause. 

It  appeared.  Slightly  to  the  right  of  the  course 
of  the  retreating  battery,  something  emerged  over 
the  crest — something  slow,  ponderous,  shapeless — 
drawing  itself  up.  The  silhouette  of  a  gun  project- 
ing from  its  flank  barred  the  sky.  Swiftly  he  re- 
placed his  glasses  by  the  range  finder.  As  he  twisted 
the  thumbscrew  that  brought  the  inverted  vision  into 


120  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

juxtaposition  with  the  normal,  he  saw  a  group  of 
grey  soldiers  surround  the  monster,  hurl  little  puffs 
of  smoke  at  it.  He  saw  the  gun  slue,  spit ;  saw  sol- 
diers who  waved  white  rags  tripping  over  those 
already  fallen.  The  double  visions  met;  he  read  the 
range.  The  thing  drew  itself  up,  turned  slightly, 
creeping  on  its  belly,  snout  in  the  air,  like  an  un- 
couth saurian  from  the  prehistoric  slime.  It  was 
moving  more  quickly  than  he  at  first  realised.  In 
another  instant  he  had  taken  the  angle  to  the  aiming 
post,  plotted  another,  and  was  shouting  orders  to 
the  telephonist: 

"All  guns  28.3  degrees  left!  Right-half  section, 
No.  I  gun  980  metres;  No.  2  gun  960  metres!  With 
percussion!    One  round!    Fire!^* 

Through  the  range  finder  he  saw  the  burst  of  the 
two  shells  at  the  same  moment  that  the  detonations 
of  the  guns  came  to  his  ears.  One  fell  full  in  the 
midst  of  the  group  of  grey  soldiery,  whelmed  them 
in  black  smoke.  The  other  burst  beyond.  The  thing 
paused  not,  nor  hurried.  At  an  even  pace,  it  drew 
its  low  bulk  along,  dipped  now  for  the  descent. 

"Right  half  section  970  metres !  Left-half  section 
960  metres !  With  percussion !  Twenty  rounds  bat- 
tery fire!    Fire!'* 

Spout  upon  spout  of  black  smoke  heralded  the  ex- 
plosions of  the  guns.  The  monster  was  blotted  out. 
Feeling  like  one  engaged  in  a  struggle  with  a  crea- 
ture born  not  in  our  time  or  space,  of  another  world, 
Von  Waldhofer  prayed  for  a  direct  hit.    The  smoke 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  121 

cleared.  He  looked  for  what  should  be  its  ripped 
and  stationary  bulk.  It  was  not  there.  The  thing 
had  passed  onward,  dipped  into  the  hollow,  out  of 
sight. 

He  was  suddenly  aware  that  the  enemy  shell  fire, 
always  heavy,  had  increased  in  intensity.  The  smoke 
spouts  shot  up  more  numerously,  grouped  themselves 
more  densely.  Gradually  they  extended  to  new  areas, 
abandoned  those  already  covered.  He  realised  in 
a  flash  that  the  monster  was  moving  behind  its  spe- 
cial barrage,  aeroplane  directed  from  above.  He 
shouted  fresh  orders,  altering  the  range.  Blindly 
he  hurled  his  shells  into  the  hollow  behind  the  screen 
of  smoke. 

If  only  he  had  direct  observation  I  He  shouted  to 
the  telephonist: 

"Ask  if  communication  has  been  made  with  Leut- 
nant  Eberstein." 

The  reply  came:  "Nothing  has  been  heard  of 
Leutnant  Eberstein.  Six  men  have  just  been  killed 
In  the  battery." 

Von  Waldhofer's  exclamation  expressed  rather 
annoyance  than  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  subordinate. 
He  turned  again  to  look  through  the  observation 
slit.    There  was  a  blinding  crash 

When  he  came  to,  he  found  himself  gazing  at  the 
blue  sky.  The  deep  breath  he  drew  half  choked  him 
with  the  fumes  of  burned  explosive.  Shaking  in 
every  limb,  he  struggled  to  his  feet.  Before  him  lay 
his  two  orderlies,  dead.     The  dugout  was  wrecked 


122  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

and  roofless.  The  telephone  Instrument  was  strewn 
In  fragments  on  the  floor.  He  himself  was  un- 
wounded. 

He  listened,  with  a  sudden  anxiety,  for  the  de- 
tonations of  his  guns.  The  general  uproar  had  di- 
minished not  at  all,  but  the  familiar  crashes  were 
wanting  In  the  din.  How  long  had  he  lain  there? 
A  wild  fear  seized  him.  Scrambling  out  of  the 
ruined  dugout,  he  ran  breathlessly  toward  the  bat- 
tery. 

The  enemy  fire  was  as  Intense  as  ever.  The  air 
was  filled  with  the  whine  and  scream  of  arriving 
shells  and  the  heavy  crashes  of  their  explosion. 
From  somewhere  behind  came  the  rattle  of  rifles  and 
machine  guns  and  the  dull  thud  of  bombs.  Grey- 
clad  men  In  swarms  were  running  across  the  open 
ground  athwart  his  path.  He  heard  them  shouting, 
saw  oflicers  gesticulating,  realised  as  In  a  dream  that 
they  were  running  from  the  battle.  But  their  fear 
touched  him  not.  He  was  enveloped  In  concern  for 
his  beloved  battery. 

He  arrived  on  the  lip  of  the  depression  where  It 
lay.  In  a  surge  of  joy,  he  saw  the  four  guns  lying 
in  the  familiar  places,  saw  them  strangely  naked, 
their  protective  veils  ripped  and  hurled  aside,  saw 
barely  sufiiclent  crews  standing  at  their  posts,  saw 
the  position  gashed  with  shell  holes  and  littered  with 
prone  grey  bodies,  shattered  limbers,  and  dead 
horses.  Even  as  he  looked,  a  salvo  of  shrapnel 
burst  with  deafening  cracks  above  them,  and  white, 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  123 

fleecy  clouds  floated  over  the  battery.  On  the  near 
flank,  In  the  position  of  command,  stood  Oberleut- 
nant  Schwarz,  rigid  and  precise  as  on  the  parade 
ground. 

Von  Waldhofer  ran  down  the  slope  toward  him. 

"Schwarz  I     Schwarz  T*  he  called. 

The  oberleutnant  advanced  to  meet  him,  and, 
looking  calmly  at  his  chief  as  though  his  smoke- 
blackened  face  and  torn  clothing  were  in  no  way 
out  of  the  normal,  saluted  with  perfect  gravity. 

"What  has  been  happening?'* 

"We  have  been  under  heavy  fire,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann.  All  the  wires  are  cut  In  many  places.  The 
telephone  dugout  has  been  blown  in.  We  are  abso- 
lutely without  communications.  The  battery  has 
fired  whenever  there  was  a  chance  of  a  target.  Your 
orders  have  been  obeyed.  The  battery  has  stood  Its 
ground.  We  have  only  three  rounds  per  gun  left. 
I  am  waiting  now  for  an  opportunity  to  fire." 

Listening  to  the  cool  report  of  his  subordinate, 
Von  Waldhofer  recovered  his  soldierly  poise. 

"Excellent.  You  have  done  well,  Schwarz.  And 
the  casualties?" 

"I  regret,  heavy."  He  waved  a  gloved  hand  to- 
ward the  bare  dozen  standing  by  the  guns.  "All 
that  are  left." 

There  was  the  loud,  hissing,  nerve-paralysing  rush 
of  a  shell  at  arrival.  Simultaneously  with  the  shat- 
tering crash  that  leaped  from  the  fountain  of  black 
smoke,  Oberleutnant  Schwarz  put  his  hand  to  his 


124  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

breast,  performed  a  sharp  half  turn,  and  fell — 
dead. 

The  reverberation  yet  rang  when  a  second  rush 
and  crash  followed  the  first.  A  third  and  fourth 
shook  the  air  almost  too  quickly  for  distinction.  The 
battery  commander's  brain  worked  with  the  time- 
less speed  of  a  great  crisis  or  a  dream.  In  an  in- 
computable fraction  of  a  second  he  saw  the  heavy 
barrage  which  had  preceded  the  slowly  crawling 
monster,  was  conscious  of  an  aeroplane  overhead, 
saw  his  opportunity  and  his  plan.  He  ran  toward 
the  guns,  shouting:  *'Lie  down!  Lie  down!"  The 
crews  obeyed.  Standing  among  the  strewn  corpses, 
the  guns  seemed  manned  only  by  the  dead.  He 
flung  himself  prone  on  the  flank  of  the  battery. 

Shell  after  shell  swooped  and  burst  on  the  stretch 
of  ground  In  front  of  him.  Fed  by  the  constantly 
spouting  black  geysers,  an  ever-thickening,  dark  mist 
drifted  across,  blotted  out  the  distance.  Through 
it  he  saw  the  freshly  thrown  edges,  brown  and  white, 
of  unfamiliar  shell  craters  pocking  the  undulating 
ground.  The  worn,  smooth  greensward  that  he  had 
known  was  being  churned  into  loose  clay  and  chalk, 
mingled  haphazard  in  their  fall  from  the  fierce  up- 
ward gush.  The  reiterated  crash  upon  crash  of 
near  explosions  all  but  obliterated  the  far-flung  din 
of  the  general  battle,  but  through  them  he  caught 
waves  of  an  appalling  uproar  welling  out  of  Flers. 
Slowly,  riving,  crashing,  upspouting  its  black  foun- 
tains of  smoke  and  earth,  the  barrage  marched  on- 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  125 

ward,  passing  across  the  battery  front.  Now  I 
Through  the  mist  he  saw  the  directing  aeroplane 
swoop  down  in  front  of  him,  absurdly  low,  rattling 
its  machine  gun.  A  group  of  grey  figures  sprang  up 
beneath  it,  both  arms  high  above  the  head,  tumbling 
among  the  shell  holes  as  they  ran.  A  temptation 
flitted  across  his  mind.  One  round  gunfire,  and  that 
aeroplane  was  blown  to  fragments.  His  lips  tight- 
ened. He  did  not  move.  The  battery  seemed  aban- 
doned by  all  but  its  dead. 

Age-long  seconds  passed  as  he  watched,  peering 
through  the  thinning  mist.  Save  for  one  little  group 
of  hasty,  self-obliterating  men,  his  immediate  front 
was  a  deserted  waste  of  churned  earth,  sloping  gently 
upward  away  from  him.  Once,  over  the  low  near 
sky  line  seen  from  his  prone  position,  he  thought 
he  saw  the  spurt  of  a  bomb.  But  he  could  not  be 
sure.  And  a  bomb  did  not  necessarily  betoken  the 
presence  of  the — thing.  Yes!  What  was  that? 
Something  was  lifting  itself  slowly  and  with  jerks 
beyond  that  near  sky  line.  Ponderously,  with  the 
efforts  of  a  limbless  living  thing,  it  drew  its  bulk  up, 
seemed  to  step,  nosing  the  air  with  its  blind  snout. 
Now  I  Not  yet  I  He  had  only  one  chance — cer- 
tainty. The  monster  moved  on  again,  downward 
now,  lurching  and  wallowing  among  the  shell  holes 
like  a  ship  in  a  heavy  sea.  He  saw  the  gun  swinging 
in  the  side  turret  as  it  rolled,  the  bright-splashed 
colouring  of  its  flank.  It  was  passing  diagonally 
across  his  front.    It  must  climb  to  escape.    Now  I 


126  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  shouting  with  all  his  lungs : 

"To  the  guns!"  The  crews  leaped  up,  resusci- 
tated. "Point-blank  I  At  the  devil  I  With  percus- 
sion!   All  guns  I    Fire!" 

But,  quick  as  he  and  his  men  had  been,  the  mon- 
ster was  quicker.  At  his  first  movement,  with  a 
mighty  jerk,  it  had  slued  itself  nose  on  to  the  battery. 
Ere  a  hand  could  clutch  a  firing  lever,  a  storm  of 
small,  violently  exploding  shells  burst  right  in  among 
the  guns,  a  hail  of  whip-cracking  machine-gun  bul- 
lets smote  on  men  and  metal.  Von  Waldhofer  looked 
toward  the  monster  lurching  heavily  toward  him. 
A  paroxysm  of  suspense  held  him  rigid.  To  his 
horror,  he  heard — not  four — ^but  one  detonation. 
The  thing  dipped.  He  saw  the  shell  burst — over! 
He  glanced  toward  the  guns  in  speechless  agony. 
The  last  gunner  was  in  the  act  of  falling,  lifeless, 
across  the  trail. 

High-nosed,  seeming  to  smell  its  enemies  rarher 
than  to  see  them,  like  an  uncouth,  blind  monster  of 
the  rudimentary  past,  the  thing  crept  on,  its  speed  as 
surprising  as  a  reptile's.  Viciously,  with  unallayed 
suspicions,  it  spat  its  missiles. at  the  dead  battery. 
Von  Waldhofer  stood  alone,  erect,  praying  that  one 
might  strike  him. 

Suddenly  its  fire  ceased.  He  heard  the  loud  clat- 
ter of  its  machinery  as  it  approached,  saw  the  rolling 
bands  on  which  it  moved.  He  felt  that  it  was  com- 
ing to  mark  its  triumph  over  his  beloved  guns,  felt 
its  disdain  for  him,  their  helpless  master.     An  in- 


PANZERKRAFTWAGEN  1«7 

sane  hatred  for  It  gushed  up  in  him,  swept  away  his 
conscious  self.  For  once  a  well-schooled  German 
lost  his  head.  He  whipped  out  his  pistol,  ran  like 
a  madman  toward  the  devil  wagon.  He  fired  again 
and  again,  desperately  seeking  the  eye,  the  brain, 
like  a  hunter  at  bay  with  a  crocodile.  He  heard  cries 
of  agony  from  Inside  the  monster.  Some  of  his 
shots  had  registered.  But  blindly  the  thing  rolled 
on,  ponderous,  invulnerable.  It  bulked  huge  above 
him.    He  heard  a  shriek.    It  was  his  own. 


THE  SPY 

THERE  IS  only  one  Paris  In  the  world  I"  mur- 
mured M.  de  Marleux  in  a  sudden  soliloquy 
as  he  glanced  round  him  from  the  rear  cushions  of 
the  luxurious  car  that  rolled  silently  along  the  boule- 
vard. The  broad  street  was  flooded  with  morning 
sunshine,  brightly  reflected  from  the  splashes  of 
broken  colours  on  the  kiosks  under  the  fresh  green 
foliage  of  the  long-ranked  trees.  The  open  fronts 
of  the  cafes  were  already  shaded  by  their  awnings ; 
but  the  elderly  waiters  stood  Idly,  white  napkins  In 
hand,  by  the  green-bucketed  shrubs  that  flanked 
them.  The  habitues  would  not  arrive  for  some  time 
yet;  were  only  sparsely  replaced  by  the  somewhat 
diflident  men  In  khaki  and  other  strange  uniforms, 
who  sat  awkwardly  at  the  little  tables  and  gazed, 
fascinated,  at  the  never-ending  streams  of  bare- 
headed, well-dressed  young  women  which  flowed  past 
them  from  each  direction. 

Barrows  loaded  high  with  flowers  were  borne  on 
the  lakelike  level  asphalt;  were  in  pleasant  exotic 
contrast  to  the  long  motor  busses,  the  vivaciously 
busy  cars  which  darted  and  swerved  past  them.    M. 

128 


THE  SPY  129 

de  Marieux  sniffed  at  a  mass  of  roses,  with  a  vo- 
luptuous trembling  of  the  nostrils  above  the  ultra- 
black  moustache,  as  his  car  dodged  round  a  crazy 
creaking  vehicle  in  answer  to  a  deft  touch  of  the 
chauffeur  at  the  wheel. 

"Paris!"  He  murmured  the  word,  like  a  sum- 
mary of  a  multitude  of  exquisite  sensations,  with  the 
ecstasy  of  an  Epicurean  satisfied.  He  chuckled  to 
himself.  *^Tiens!  Je  deviens  plus  Parisien  que  les 
Parigotsr  he  murmured  aloud. 

Then  he  smiled  suddenly  at  his  unconscious  use 
of  the  soldier  slang  taught  him  by  his  son,  a  slang 
he  had  often  reproved  with  that  worthy  dignity 
which  befits  a  highly  successful  man  in  his  intercourse 
with  his  offspring.  Simultaneously  a  cold  unmoved 
contra-self  in  him  remarked  on  his  growing  and 
dangerous  habit  of  speaking  his  thoughts  aloud.  .  .  . 
Mental  strain!  He  accepted  the  diagnosis  with  a 
sense  of  justification.  His  smile  was  renewed,  less 
pleasantly,  at  an  obscurely  linked  thought;  became 
grim  and  mocking. 

He  found  himself  looking  at  a  picture  familiar 
to  his  childhood,  a  lavishly  coloured  oleograph  illus- 
trating the  triumphal  march  of  the  conquerors  into 
Paris  in  187 1 ;  heard  his  father  reiterating  with  pride 
that  the  Bavarian  battalion  in  the  foreground  was 
his  own.  He  remembered  that,  as  time  passed,  his 
father  insisted  on  a  personal  identification  with  the 
pompously  strutting  private  in  the  front  rank. 

That  was  long  ago.    Few — he  hoped  none— could 


130  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

identify  him  as  the  little  boy  who  had  emigrated  with 
his  father  into  Switzerland  during  the  bad  time  of 
economic  reaction  in  1873,  and  thence  into  France. 
The  double  naturalisation  of  the  parent,  the  death 
of  a  son  born  in  the  last-adopted  land,  had  left  M. 
Victor  de  Marieux  with  papers  in  perfect  order,  ex- 
cept for  a  discrepancy  between  the  fact  that  the  rec- 
ord of  his  birth,  and  a  confusion  of  first  names  with 
his  brother.  Mardorf  had  become  Marieux  almost 
before  his  memory.  The  "de"  had  slipped  in  im- 
perceptibly, comparatively  recently.  M.  Victor  de 
Marieux  would  have  become  quite  French  except 
for  his  father's  passionate  tutelage,  reinforced  at 
the  right  time  by  a  period  at  a  German  university. 

Since  then — well,  many  things  had  happened  that 
M.  de  Marieux  was  quite  content  to  forget.  The 
early  stages  of  that  remarkable  financial  enterprise, 
the  Societe  Universelle  d'Economie  et  de  Prevoy- 
ance,  which  from  its  palatial  headquarters  in  Paris 
controlled  a  multitude  of  branches  in  the  provinces 
and  had  most  important  foreign  relationships,  were 
well  left  in  obscurity.  The  dazzling  figure  of  its 
plutocratic  chief — ^the  husband  of  a  beautiful  French- 
woman of  unimpeachable  race,  unhappily  now  de- 
ceased; the  father  of  a  brilliant  young  artillery  offi- 
cer, who  romantically  and  absurdly  preferred  his 
battery  to  a  staff  appointment;  the  host,  since  many 
years,  of  tout  Paris;  the  dimly  apprehended  power 
behind  much  contemporary  politics — was  surrounded 
with  such  an  aureole  that  none  could  look  beyond  it 


THE  SPY  131 

into  the  past.  Fragmentary  outlines  of  this  career 
flitted  through  M.  de  Marieux's  brain  as  he  leaned 
back  in  his  car  and  smiled  at  the  memory  of  that 
German  oleograph.  The  retrospect  increased  the 
pleasant  sense  of  self-satisfaction  with  which  he  had 
set  out  that  morning.  He  reinforced  it  by  a  glance 
at  the  folded  newspaper  he  held  in  his  hand. 

His  car  swung  onto  the  pavement  in  front  of  the 
large-windowed  granite  facade  of  the  Societe  Uni- 
verselle  d'Economie  et  de  Prevoyance.  An  elderly 
porter,  superb  in  a  uniform  whose  richness  was  en- 
hanced by  its  aristocratic  restraint,  stepped  forward 
to  open  the  door  for  him,  bowed  as  he  passed  up  the 
white  marble  steps  Into  the  entrance  hall  with  Its 
checkered  black-and-white  marble  pavement. 

M.  de  Marieux  glanced,  through  the  great  glass 
doors  at  his  right.  Into  the  vast  counting  house  under 
the  lofty  semi-Grecian  ceiling,  whence  artistic  bronze 
bowls,  containing  electric-light  bulbs,  were  pendent 
on  long  chains.  At  row  after  row  of  desks,  beyond 
the  polished  oak  counter,  blue-jumpered  girl  clerks 
were  busy,  white  papers  fluttering  In  their  hands. 
He  could  imagine  the  rustle  of  countless  documents, 
the  murmur  of  many  voices  earnestly  conducting  his 
— M.  de  Marieux's — ^business. 

It  was  a  glance  that  was  habitual  to  him  and  one 
that  never  failed  to  gratify.  The  premises  of  the 
Societe  Unlverselle  were  a  monument  to  the  success 
of  its  founder,  a  success  that  was  always  freshly 
pleasant  to  the   impressionable   artist  who   lurked 


132  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

somewhere  in  the  many-chambered  soul  of  the  great 
financier. 

Smiling — he  had  many  reasons  to  smile  that  morn- 
ing— he  entered  the  lift,  open  and  waiting  for  him. 
An  instant  later  he  was  shot  up  to  a  higher  floor. 

As  he  entered  his  large  luxuriously  furnished  pri- 
vate room,  M.  Jocelyn,  his  elderly  secretary,  rose 
respectfully  from  the  desk  at  which  he  had  opened 
the  morning  correspondence.  The  financier  replied 
cheerfully  to  the  diffident  greeting;  addressed  his 
secretary  as  ''Mow  cher  JocelynT^  The  day  had 
opened  well. 

M.  de  Marieux  walked  across  to  the  magnificent 
piece  of  furniture  that  served  him  as  his  working 
desk,  carefully  deposited  the  folded  newspaper, 
glanced  at  the  pile  of  letters  whose  superscriptions 
and  heavy  seals  announced  that  they  were  for  his 
eye  alone,  and  sat  down.  His  secretary  approached 
with  a  sheaf  of  opened  correspondence.  The  morn- 
ing's work  began — M.  Jocelyn  marvelled  once  more 
at  his  chief's  unerring  judgment  and  instantaneous 
decisions. 

The  routine  work  finished,  M.  de  Marieux  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  tapping  the  desk  with  the  ex- 
quisite silver  paper  knife  with  which  he  would  open 
his  confidential  letters.  It  was  the  signal  for  the 
departure  of  the  secretary.  M.  Jocelyn,  however, 
lingered. 

"£f  Monsieur  Henrif^  he  asked,  diffidently  smil- 
ing over  his  sheaf  of  papers. 


THE  SPY  133 

"Excellent!  I  thank  you,  my  dear  Jocelyn,"  re- 
plied the  financier  with  unforced  sincerity.  "He  ar- 
rived on  leave  this  morning.  He  is  enjoying  him- 
self— killing  boches  by  the  thousands,  if  one  may 
believe  him."  He  looked  up,  smiling  under  his  black 
moustache. 

The  worthy  M.  Jocelyn  showed  his  clenched  teeth 
and  shook  his  head,  terrierlike,  in  earnest  ferocity. 

*'Ah,  ces  boches r*  he  said.  ^^Mais  on  les  aura, 
Monsieur  de  Marieux!    On  les  auraF 

"Of  course  I"  replied  the  financier,  blandly  benig- 
nant. "Your  son  is  still  at  Verdun,  I  see.''  He 
smiled  at  his  own  perspicacity. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  de  Marieux.  It  is  of  him  that  I 
would  speak  to  you.  He  has  just  been  nominated 
sous-lieutenant!*  M.  Jocelyn  was  radiant  with  pa- 
ternal pride. 

"A  thousand  congratulations,  my  dear  Jocelyn!" 
said  M.  de  Marieux  warmly.  "He  is  an  excellent 
young  man.  Ah — he  will  need  money  for  his  new 
equipment.  Bring  me  a  check  for  five  hundred  francs 
to  sign  this  afternoon — ^that  will  help  him." 

The  elderly  secretary  stammered  in  delighted  sur- 
prise: "Monsieur  is  too  good!  If  monsieur  will 
pardon  me,  I  have  always  considered  monsieur  as 
the  type  of  a  true  patriot." 

For  M.  Jocelyn  this  was  the  summit  of  compli- 
ment. Anything  less  would  have  been  inadequate 
to  this  occasion. 

"One  does  what  one  can,  my  dear  Jocelyn,"  said 


134  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  financier  with  a  negligent  wave  of  the  hand. 

He  picked  up  one  of  the  heavily  sealed  envelopes. 
It  was  a  hint  that  was  not  to  be  disregarded.  The 
secretary  tiptoed  out  of  the  room. 

M.  de  Marieux,  however,  did  not  at  once  open 
the  letter.  He  looked  up  under  his  eyebrows  as  the 
door  closed,  assured  himself  that  it  was  firmly  shut, 
and  then  put  down  the  envelope.  He  took  up  the 
folded  newspaper,  spread  it  out.  The  main  feature 
upon  the  Derniere  Heure  page  was  a  column  headed 
L' Affaire  Valrouge.  There  what  had  evidently  been 
a  journalistic  scoop  ended,  however.  The  censor 
had  been  at  work  and  the  remainder  of  the  column 
was  blank  from  top  to  bottom. 

M.  de  Marieux's  mouth  twisted  itself  into  a  wry 
smile  as  he  gazed  at  the  significantly  blank  column, 
headed  with  the  name  of  one  of  the  most  notorious 
Parisian  journalists,  pregnant  with  startling  scandal. 
Whatever  of  the  mysterious  this  suppressed  column 
might  have  for  the  general  public,  to  M.  de  Marieux 
its  purport  was  evidently  clear  enough.  His  smile 
broadened  to  one  of  unpleasant  satisfaction. 

"The  end  of  Valrouge!'*  he  murmured.  "It  was 
quite  time  I" 

He  rose  from  his  chair,  walked  across  to  a  wall 
hung  with  several  artistically  spaced-out  pictures, 
and  stopped  before  a  Degas  study  of  gauzy  ballet 
dancers,  ethereal  in  a  blaze  of  limelight  beyond  the 
near  crudity  of  the  coulisses.  He  pressed  an  un- 
marked spot  on  the  wall  and  a  heavy  door  swung 


THE  SPY  135 

silently  open,  carrying  the  picture  with  it,  revealing 
a  cabinet  of  drawers  labelled  alphabetically.  He 
opened  one  marked  "V,"  took  out  a  bundle  of  corre- 
spondence, glanced  at  it,  and  swung  the  door  back 
into  its  place. 

Then  he  walked  across  to  the  empty  fireplace,  laid 
the  bundle  in  the  grate  and  stood  over  it,  pondering 
with  bent  brows,  match  box  ready  in  his  fingers.  His 
hesitation  finished  with  a  reversal  of  his  previous 
decision.  He  picked  the  bundle  of  correspondence 
out  of  the  grate  and  stuffed  it  into  a  capacious  brief 
pocket  inside  his  coat.  It  marred  his  elegance  and 
he  frowned  as  he  patted  it  down. 

"I  must  take  care  of  it,'*  he  murmured — "or  Val- 
rouge  will  have  a  companion." 

He  went  back  to  his  desk  and  commenced  to  open 
his  letters.  He  went  through  them  swiftly,  brows 
bent  in  concentration  of  thought,  made  notes  on 
some,  locked  away  others.  At  the  reading  of  one 
of  them  his  features  relaxed  into  a  smile  that  hinted 
at  relief  from  pressing  anxiety.  The  postmark  and 
stamp  were  Swiss.  The  heading  on  the  note  paper 
was  Adolphe  Lammartin  et  Cie.,  Banquiers,  Berne. 
The  letter  ran :  "In  answer  to  your  telegram  of  the 
twenty-second,  M.  Olivier  Lammartin,  of  our  house, 
will  be  in  Paris  on  the  morning  of  the  twenty-fifth. 
His  address  will  be  the  Hotel  Triest.  He  is  fully 
empowered  to  negotiate  all  matters  affecting  our  in- 
terests  *' 

M.  de  Marieux  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  his 


1S6  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

eyes  narrowed.  He  was  extremely  well  acquainted 
with  the  financial  house  of  Lammartin  et  Cie. — ^bet- 
ter acquainted,  he  hoped,  than  any  one  save  them- 
selves and  a  certain  bureau  in  Berlin  would  ever 
appreciate ;  but  he  did  not  remember  the  existence  of 
M.  Olivier  Lammartin — had  certainly  never  met 
him.  He  pondered  doubtfully.  Then  he  held  the 
sheet  of  note  paper  to  the  light  and  nodded  in  recog- 
nition of  a  not  apparently  noteworthy  watermark. 
This  was  no  trap.  In  his  reassurance  he  uncon- 
sciously whistled  a  few  bars  of  a  cheerful  tune — he 
stopped,  suddenly  perceiving  It  to  be  the  Marseil- 
laise. He  had  heard  a  band  playing  It  at  the  head 
of  troops  marching  to  the  station  as  he  came  to  the 
office  that  morning,  he  remembered.  He  picked  up 
the  receiver  of  the  telephone  upon  his  table. 

"Monsieur  Laporte  there?"  he  queried.  "Ah — 
good  day,  Laporte!  Come  up  to  my  room  if  you 
please.''  His  tone  had  the  decision  with  which  he 
usually  addressed  the  general  manager  of  the  Societe 
Unlverselle — a  decision  that  clearly  indicated  the 
master. 

In  an  incredibly  few  moments  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  door  and  M.  Laporte,  a  tall  myopic  man, 
with  a  bald  patch  on  the  crown  of  his  head,  entered 
the  room.  He  looked  nervously  over  his  pince-nez 
as  he  approached  M.  de  Marieux,  seated  at  the 
table. 

**Eh  bien,  mon  cher  haporte^  he  said  with  crisp 
geniality;  "and  what  is  the  situation  to-day?" 


THE  SPY  13T 

The  general  manager  shook  his  head  dolefully 
and  exhaled  f»,  heavy  sigh. 

"Bad,  Monsieur  de  Marieux.  The  deposits  you 
expected  have  not  been  made.  The  bills  of  Dela- 
fosse  will  be  protested.  Our  collateral  is  down  an 
average  three  points  this  morning.  We  have  not  a 
centime  more  of  security  to  give.  We  have  those 
heavy  liabilities  to  meet " 

M.  de  Marieux  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
smiled  as  he  rubbed  his  hands  together. 

*'My  dear  Laporte,"  he  said  in  half-humorous 
reprehension,  **you  are  incurable." 

The  general  manager  stared  at  him,  with  a  short- 
sighted pucker  of  the  brows. 

"But — if  I  may  say  so,  Monsieur  de  Marieux — 
you  do  not  realise  I  This  is  the  twenty-fifth  of  the 
month.  Unless  a  miracle  happens  before  the  thir- 
tieth"— he  waved  his  hand  expressively — "crash!" 

M.  de  Marieux  still  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  smil- 
ing. 

"My  dear  Laporte,"  he  said,  "how  long  have  you 
been  in  my  service?  Ten  years!  And  how  many 
times  in  that  ten  years  have  you  come  to  me  to  warn 
me  of  the  crash  within  a  week?" 

"Many — I  must  confess,  Monsieur  de  Marieux," 
stammered  the  manager. 

"Well  you  will  probably  come  many  more  times 
in  the  next  ten  years.  And  each  time,  my  dear  La- 
porte, you  will  see  the  miracle  happen,  as  it  is  going 
to  happen  now." 


138  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Perplexity  and  relief  struggled  In  the  manager's 
face. 

"Monsieur's  private  account ?"  he  ventured, 

hazarding  a  solution. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Laportel'*  said  his  master 
severely.  "You  should  know  me  better  than  that. 
.  .  • .  You  will  have  a  blank  transfer  of  the  Mo- 
roccan concessions  made  out  at  once." 

M.  Laporte's  eyebrows  shot  up  in  surprise.  The 
eyes  beneath  them  blinked  behind  the  pince-nez  as 
though  uncertain  that  they  saw  accurately  a  normally 
smiling  man  in  the  seat  of  the  master. 

"The — the  German  concessions  we  took  over 
from  Mannesmann,  monsieur?" 

"Precisely." 

"But — ^but  they  are  worthless '* 

"Don't  try  to  understand,  my  dear  Laporte. 
Have  that  blank  transfer  on  my  desk  within  half  an 
hour  and  get  the  concessions  out  of  the  safe." 

'*Bien,  monsieur T*  The  manager  obviously  re- 
nounced the  attempt  to  comprehend.  His  eye  fell 
upon  the  newspaper  spread  upon  the  desk,  the  sig- 
nificantly blank  column  prominent.  "This  A f aire 
Valrouge^  monsieur — it  is  evidently  a  terrible  scan- 
dal; everybody  is  talking  about  it — ^they  say  it  is  a 
question  of  military  secrets." 

"Indeed!"  said  M.  de  Marleux  coolly.  "They 
say  all  sorts  of  things — ^but  no  one  knows  anything. 
Don't  listen,  my  dear  Laporte ;  or,  if  you  do  listen — 
don't  repeat." 


THE  SPY  139 

"I  pay  no  attention,  monsieur,  I  assure  you;  but 
if  it  is  true  what  they  say,  then  shooting  is  too  good 
for  the  scoundrel  I  I  have  a  son  at  the  Front,  mon- 
sieur; I  am  anxious  enough  about  him — the  grand 
offensive  is  certain  to  begin  soon;  and  if  there  is 

treachery But  monsieur  also  has  a  son  at  the 

Front  and  can  understand  my  feelings." 

"Quite  I  Quite  I  But  don't  believe  half  tli-se  silly 
stories  of  espionage.  There's  no  truth  in  them. 
.  .  .  Er — what  do  you  estimate  the  deficit  at  the  end 
of  the  month?" 

The  manager's  face  resumed  its  expression  of 
lugubrious  alarm. 

"Fifteen  million  francs,  monsieur !"  he  announced 
solemnly,  looking  as  though  he  expected  M.  de  Ma- 
rieux  to  jump  out  of  his  seat  with  horror. 

"Good!"  said  the  financier  equably.  "Go  and 
have  that  transfer  prepared." 

M.  Laporte  left  the  room — to  gesticulate  with 
both  hands  above  his  ears  in  the  solitude  of  the  cor- 
ridor. 

M.  de  Marieux  turned  to  the  telephone.  He 
asked  for  a  number. 

"Hello  I  The  Hotel  Triest?  .  .  .  Put  me  through 
to  M.  Lammartin.  .  .  .  Yes.  Telephone  in  his 
room — n'est'ce  pas?  Yes."  He  waited.  "Hello  I 
M.  Olivier  Lammartin?  .  .  .  M.  de  Marieux  speak- 
ing. Can  you  come  and  see  me — ^now?  .  .  .  Yes. 
In  my  office.    You  have  the  address?"    He  glanced 


140  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

at  his  watch.  "In  half  an  hour.  Half  past  eleven. 
Bon!    Au  revoirT^    He  shut  off. 

M.  de  Marieux  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  tapped 
his  teeth  with  his  gold  pencil. 

"The  grand  offensive!"  he  murmured,  and  smiled. 
"Poor  old  Laportel     But  I  must  get  Henri  away 

from   his   battery "      His   cogitations   relapsed 

into  silence,  prolonged.  They  rose  again  into  the 
soliloquy,  tempted  by  the  hush  in  the  room,  with  an 
exclamation:  "If  only  he  were  not  so  obstinate!'* 
He  frowned,  thinking  hard. 

M.  de  Marieux  sat  alone  in  his  silent  room,  high 
above  the  roar  of  the  Paris  boulevard,  as  upon  the 
summit  of  his  career,  and  looked  down  vales  of 
thought  into  a  distance  where  the  imagination  was 
unhampered.  The  possessor  of  a  secret — he  felt 
it  symbolically  in  his  clenched  fist — ^that  was  decisive 
of  the  fate  of  nations,  his  egoism  was  flattered  with 
the  consciousness  of  power.  He  smiled  grimly.  At 
the  back  of  his  mind  was  a  certain  loyalty  to  his 
employers;  but  they  would  have  to  pay — pay  heav- 
ily— for  the  priceless  information  he  would  give 
them. 

He  had  reason  to  be  pleased  with  himself.  Few 
secret  agents  had  had  so  long  a  career  of  success 
as  he;  few,  indeed,  had  extracted  such  lavish  re- 
wards, both  pecuniary  and  social,  from  a  hazardous 
profession;  none,  he  thought,  was  less  suspected. 
Ministers  were  deferential  to  him,  for  M.  de  Ma- 
rieux was   a  power  in  that  half-hidden  world  of 


THE  SPY  141 

finance  where  the  destinies  of  unconscious  peoples  are 
plotted  out.  He  was  not  merely  a  paid  agent — he 
was  a  semi-independent  adventurer  on  the  modern 
equivalent  of  the  Spanish  Main. 

The  risky  speculations  in  which  he  chanced  the 
funds  of  the  Societe  Universelle  were  uncontrolled 
by  any  brain  save  his  own;  but  always,  as  now,  he 
called  in  the  assistance  of  his  shadowy  backers  when 
they  were  endangered.  Always  he  gave  good  value 
for  the  enormous  sums  he  drew.  He  had  no  fear 
that  he  would  not  be  supported.  In  countless  ways 
the  existence  of  the  Societe  Universelle,  as  directed 
by  its  founder,  was  of  incalculable  value  to  those 
scarcely  human  intelligences  that  he,  with  all  his  sub- 
terranean information,  knew  only  as  numbers  pre- 
fixed with  an  initial. 

He  looked  up  startled  as  the  door  opened  sud- 
denly. A  young  artillery  captain,  elegant  in  his 
sky-blue  uniform,  entered  with  a  boisterous  good 
humour  that  shattered  the  conspiratorial  quiet  of  the 
financier's  private  room.  M.  de  Marieux  smiled 
tolerantly. 

"Business  hours,  Henri — ^business  hours!"  he  said, 
shaking  his  head. 

"Pardon,  father — ^but  I  was  passing,  and I 

must  tell  you  I  I  have  just  heard  that  this  scoundrel 
Valrouge  has  been  betraying  the  plans  for  the  grand 
offensive  I*' 

"What?"  M.  de  Marieux  wondered  whether  he 


r 


14g  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

had  kept  down  his  nervous  start.     He  reassumed 
control  of  himself. 

"My  dear  Henri,  wherever  did  you  get  that  ab- 
surd story?'* 

"At  the  club,  father." 

M.  de  Marieux  smiled. 

"It  was  a  canard,  my  dear  boy — histoire  de  rire, 
M.  Valrouge  had  been  dabbling  in  air-craft  specifica- 
tions. That  is  the  truth  of  it;  but  keep  it  to  your- 
self." 

He  said  this  with  such  quiet  certitude  that  the 
young  officer  glanced  at  his  father  with  a  sudden 
curiosity. 

"But  how  do  you  know?" 

"I  know  many  things,  my  dear  Henri — ^more  than 
I  discuss." 

"What  has  happened  to  him,  then?"  cried  the 
young  man,  disregarding  the  hint  in  the  final  clause. 
"All  Paris  is  talking." 

M.  de  Marieux  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  meeting  his  son's  eyes 
without  flinching. 

*'Mon  Dieul  Father,  I  hope  he  is  shot — though 
shooting  is  too  good  for  him.  Anything  more  des- 
picable, more  hateful  than  a  spy "    He  could  not 

finish  other  than  by  a  gesture  of  fierce  contempt. 

"Agreed,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  financier.    "But 

— well,  no  nation  can  exist  without  them "    He 

stopped,  checked  by  the  virgin  wrath  in  his  son's 
face.    "Personally  I  should  have  no  mercy  for  such 


THE  SPY  143 

canailleP'     His  smile  was,  somehow,  incongruous 
with  the  energy  of  his  statement. 

"Mercy!"  The  young  officer  laughed  bitterly. 
"When  I  think  of  all  the  splendid  lads  gayly  risking 
their  lives  to  free  their  country,  and  think  that  they 
might  be  murdered — ^murdered  I — my  gunners ! — for 
that  is  what  it  comes  to — ^by  a  treacherous  dog  in  a 
Paris  office — mon  Dieu,  father,  mercy  is  out  of  the 
question  I    The  severest  justice  is  too  weak!" 

** Accords,'*  said  M.  de  Marieux,  looking  down  at 
the  gold  pencil  he  tapped  upon  the  white  blotting 
pad  of  his  desk.  "Now  Henri,  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  about  that  staff  appointment.  I  have  arranged 
everything *  * 

The  young  man  interrupted  him : 

"Pardon,  father;  but  it  is  useless.  I  shall  not 
leave  my  battery.  Soon — I  don't  know  when,  but 
all  the  world  knows — the  grand  offensive  will  com- 
mence and  we  shall  sweep  the  boches  back  across  the 
Rhine  into  the  sties  they  came  from.  I  have  been 
with  my  battery  since  the  first  day.  I  shall  be  with 
it  to  the  last  if  I  live.  I  would  not  miss  the  great 
time  before  us  for  life  itself!" 

'Tarfaitement/'  agreed  M.  de  Marieux,  without 
lifting  his  eyes  from  the  desk.  "I  quite  understand 
and  sympathise  with  your  sentiment.  But,"  here  he 
raised  his  glance  to  meet  his  son's,  "I  will  guarantee 
that  your  staff  appointment  is  in  the  attacking  army. 
You  will  see  more — ^find  it  infinitely  more  interesting. 


il44  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

You  will  have  a  front  seat,  in  fact.  And  your  career 
will  be  assured." 

The  young  man  shook  his  head  firmly. 

"Pardon,  father;  but  I  know  myself.  I  have  no 
talents  for  the  staff.  I  am  an  artilleryman.  I  know 
my  seventy-fives.  Serving  them,  I  am  useful  to  my 
country,  to  this  poor  France  of  ours;  you  cannot 
realise  it,  father — ^you  have  not  seen  the  desolation, 
the  havoc,  they  have  wrought — these  swine !  I  kill 
Germans,  father — that  is  my  one  glory,  my  one  ex- 
cuse for  being  a  Frenchman  and  still  alive.  I  kill 
Germans!" 

M.  de  Marieux's  eyes  sank  before  those  of  his  son, 
flaming  as  in  the  exaltation  of  a  crusade.  The  young 
man  continued : 

"France!  That  is  all  I  live  for — to  feel  that  I 
am  usefully  helping  to  rid  our  country — for  it  is 
ours,  father;  it  became  yours  long  ago,  before  I 
was  born — ^think  of  our  house,  mother's  house,  in 
the  Argonne,  and  how  you  love  it ! — to  rid  it  forever 
of  these  vermin!  I  declare  to  you,  father,"  he  fin- 
ished passionately,  "that  if  you  intrigue  behind  my 
back  to  put  me  into  a  safe  place  in  the  staff,  I  shall 
never  speak  to  you  again — will  cease  to  be  your  son  I 
I  should  feel  myself  dishonoured.  Others  are  use- 
ful, necessary,  on  the  staff.  My  place  is  with  my 
cannons!    Let  me  hear  no  more  of  it,  father!" 

M.  de  Marieux  raised  his  head  slowly. 

"You  are  scarcely  just  to  me,  Henri." 

"Pardon,  father !    I  know  I  said  absurdities.  You 


THE  SPY  145 

are  incapable  of  intrigue.  You  are  as  French  as  I, 
as  my  mother — she  would  not  have  loved  you  else. 
Forgive  me  I" 

M.  de  Marieux  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Very  well,  Henri.  It  shall  be  as  you  wish.  You 
shall  go  back  to  your  battery.'^  He  glanced  at  his 
watch.  "Now  you  must  leave  me.  I  have  a  most 
important  appointment.  Come  back  and  lunch  with 
me  at  twelve  o^clock." 

"Thanks,  father — ^thanks !"  cried  the  young  man, 
seizing  his  father's  hand.  "I  knew  I  should  make 
you  understand — ^you  are  French,  father,  more  even 
than  I,  for  you  have  lived  longer  than  I  have  in  this 
dear  France  of  ours ;  and  no  one  can  live  as  we  three 
lived,  mother,  you  and  I,  dans  le  pays,  and  not  be- 
come French  to  the  bone!  Of  course  you  are  I  I 
know  you  do  your  part — helping  the  government — 
finding  the  money — all  sorts  of  ways,  I  don't  under- 
stand— making  it  possible  for  me  to  kill  Germans. 
I  am  proud  of  you,  father,  because  you  are  so  French 
— I  often  talk  about  you ;  but  then  a  Swiss  is  already 
half  French,  isn't  he?" 

He  laughed.  "All  right,  father,  I'm  going.  Au 
revoir — a  midir* 

He  went  out  of  the  room  as  boisterously  as  he 
had  entered  it.  M.  de  Marieux  sat  pondering,  with 
bent  brows,  his  mouth  troubled.  Could  he  change 
his  plans — now — at  this  last  moment?  Yes;  it  was 
possible  I  He  saw  himself  forced  to  relinquish  his 
dream  of  retirement,  forced  to  continue,  with  failing 


146  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

nerve,  on  his  hazardous  path.  As  an  alternative,  he 
glanced  at  Henri,  dying  amid  the  wreckage  of  a  bat- 
tery on  a  day  of  appalling  disaster.    It  decided  him. 

He  looked  up  at  a  soft  tap  on  the  door.  M. 
Jocelyn  entered,  bearing  a  visiting  card — M.  Olivier 
Lammartin.  In  the  short  interval  of  solitude  before 
the  entrance  of  his  visitor  he  braced  himself  for  a 
contest  with  an  unknown  he  suddenly  felt  to  be  an 
adversary. 

The  stranger  entered — tall,  with  a  clipped  ruddy 
beard,  faultlessly  dressed,  silk  hat  in  hand. 

"M.  de  Marieux?" 

The  financier  stared  like  one  incredulous.  M. 
Jocelyn  retired  softly  behind  the  closed  door. 

*^Conrad!'^ 

"The  same,  my  dear  Victor!  Messrs.  Lammar- 
tin could  not  refuse  to  render  us  this  little  service  I'* 
He  smiled.  "Many  years  since  Heidelberg!"  He 
released  his  grip  of  his  old  student  comrade's  hand 
and  threw  himself  into  an  armchair,  like  one  at 
home.  *^Ach!  Sprich  Deutsch,  alter  Kerlf  I  am 
sick  of  this  verdammte  French — I  have  not  been  in 
the  country  for  twenty  years.  I  am  surprised  at  your 
recognising  me — the  police  did  not;  but  you  always 
had  a  good  eye,  lieber  Victor — nichtwahrf*  He 
laughed.  "I  remember  your  first  success — ^the 
woman " 

He  desisted  at  M.  de  Marieux's  gesture  of  the 
hand. 


^'   '  Ayi^ 


V... 


THE  SPY  147 

*'GenugP*  He  laughed  again.  You  have  gone 
far  since  then.     GratuliereF* 

M.  de  Marieux  leaned  back  in  the  chair  at  his 
desk.    His  eyes  hardened  as  he  caressed  his  chin. 

"You  come  fully  empowered  to  negotiate  as  from 
Lammartin?"  he  asked. 

^^Ganz,  lieber  Freund!  GanzF^  The  German's 
blue  eyes  smiled  at  his  old  comrade — smiled  with  a 
slight  change  of  expression  as  they  slid  toward  the 
open  newspaper  on  the  desk.  "That  poor  Val- 
rougel"  he  said.    "What  has  happened  to  him?" 

"Shot  this  morning!*' 

The  brows  over  the  blue  eyes  lifted  slightly. 

"Why?" 

M.  de  Marieux's  mouth  thinned  as  it  tightened. 

"These  subordinate  agents  sometimes  become  too 
exacting." 

The  German's  eyes  rested  full  on  the  financier  in 
a  moment's  silence. 

"Sol  And  you" — he  waved  his  hand — "without 
any  suspicion?" 

"I  obtained  authority  from  the  French  Govern- 
ment to  tempt  him  into  selling  me  specifications  of 
the  new  aircraft  now  being  made  in  a  factory  of 
which  he  was  director.  It  was  simple.  He  knew  his 
only  chance  of  pension  for  his  wife  and  children  de- 
pended on  his  silence.    It  will  be  paid." 

The  German  smiled. 

"The  orthodox  way — ^but  very  effective,  liehen 
Victor;  very  effective!" 


148  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  financier  responded  by  a  grimly  humorous 
twitching  of  the  mouth,  a  gleam  of  the  eyes.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"One  has  perhaps  to  be  trained  to  a  sense  of 
values,"  he  said,  by  way  of  epitaph. 

*^Ja  wohl — Valrouge  is  not  the  first  to  miscalculate 
them;  nor  will  he  be  the  last.  ...  It  is  a  delicate 
balance  between  price  and  usefulness,  my  dear  Vic- 
tor,'' he  added,  smiling  through  the  clipped  ruddy 
beard. 

A  little  alarm  bell  rang  suddenly  somewhere  in 
the  recesses  of  M.  de  Marieux's  consciousness.  His 
eyes  narrowed  slightly,  imperceptibly,  as  he  contem- 
plated his  old  college  friend.  Then  he  dared  a  pro- 
vocative phrase,  by  way  of  reconnaissance. 

*'We  shall  all  come  to  it  one  day,  I  suppose,"  he 
said  lightly,  "if  we  continue  long  enough  in  the 
metier.  The  bureau  makes  no  pretence  to  grati- 
tude." 

"Nor  any  other  virtue — save  that  of  efficiency," 
laughed  the  German.  "Yes;  it  is  an  ungrateful  pro- 
fession. I  wonder  you  have  kept  at  it  so  long,  alter 
Kerir  His  eyes  swept  carelessly  over  his  friend's 
face.  "I  should  have  expected  you  to  retire  long 
ago." 

M.  de  Marieux  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  difficult  to  retire,"  he  said.  "And  then,  I 
have  had  important  work  to  do — for  the  Father- 
land," he  added  hypocritically.  "But  I  will  confess 
that  sometimes  I  look  forward  to  an  unharassed 


THE  SPY  149 

old  age — I  am  not  so  young  as  once — to  make  way 
for  others  perhaps  more  useful ;  not,  of  course,  now, 
in  the  great  time,"  he  interjected  in  cautious  paren- 
thesis, *'but  when  the  victory  is  won.  To  go  down 
to  my  little  country  place  and  live  with  my  pictures, 
and,  I  hope,  see  my  son  happily  married — that  is  my 
ambition,  Conrad!" 

*'To  live  in  France?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Why  not? — I  agree,"  suavely  concurred  the 
German.  "France  is  a  charming  country — for  those 
who  love  it." 

"I  adore  it!"  murmured  M.  de  Marieux,  half 
unconsciously,  seeing  his  Argonne  chateau,  set  like 
an  exquisite  jewel  amid  autumn-tinted  woods.  He 
suddenly  perceived  his  friend's  eyes  piercingly  upon 
him. 

"Your  son?"  said  Conrad.  "Shall  he  succeed 
you?" 

M.  de  Marieux  laughed. 

"He  is  the  most  fervid  of  Frenchmen !" 

"So  I  Well,  it  has  its  advantages  at  the  present 
time.     A  useful  camouflage,  Victor." 

The  little  laugh  that  followed  this  remark  was 
unpleasant  to  M.  de  Marieux. 

"Suppose  we  come  to  business,  my  dear  Conrad," 
said  the  financier.  "I  will  put  it  tersely:  I  have  the 
opportunity  to  purchase  a  controlling  interest  in  La 
Feuille  du  Jour." 

"A  useful  newspaper  to  capture,"  commented  the 


150  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

German.  "Valrouge  had  opened  up  a  connection 
with  it,  had  he  not?    Yes.    The  price?" 

"Twenty  million  francs — at  once,"  said  De  Ma- 
rieux  calmly  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

The  German  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"A  large  sum,"  he  said.  "You  can  guarantee— 
everything — for  that?" 

"I  can  guarantee  a  subtle  discouragement  in  the 
country — well-concealed  propaganda  for  the  peace 
by  understanding  so  urgently  desired — and,  of 
course,  much  valuable  private  information.  But  the 
offer  must  be  seized  at  once.  There  is  one  more 
point :  To  establish  my  bona  fides  in  case  the  check 
is  traced,  I  propose  to  transfer  my  Mannesmann 
securities  to  the  Lammartins  against  their  check  for 
this  amount." 

The  German  cogitated  for  a  moment. 

"And  this  is  the  big  deal  about  which  you  tele- 
graphed?" 

"It  is,"  replied  M.  de  Marieux,  awaiting  the  re- 
sult of  the  emissary's  deliberations  with  an  outward 
coolness  that  gave  no  hint  of  the  desperate  anxiety 
within.  Would  he  succeed?  He  saw  his  son's  face, 
heard  his  son's  voice — and  tried  to  obliterate  the 
hallucination,  lest  it  should  shake  his  nerve. 

"H'm!"  said  the  German.  "We  had  hoped  for 
something  of  more  precise  and  immediate  value. 
But  we  have  confidence  in  you.  I  agree  to  this  pro- 
posal. Twenty  million  francs  I  Your  sense  of  values 
is  very  acute,  lieher  Victor T* 


THE  SPY  151 

The  financier  smiled  to  cover  his  deep  exhala- 
tion of  relief. 

"Very!"  he  said.  He  pressed  the  bell  on  his 
desk. 

M.  Jocelyn  appeared  at  the  door  with  a  bundle 
of  papers. 

"The  Mannesmann  concessions  and  the  transfer, 
M.  Jocelyn,  if  you  please.'* 

"They  are  here,  monsieur." 

M.  Joceljm  deposited  them  on  the  desk  and  with- 
drew. 

The  German  laughed. 

'^Ein  echter  Geschdftsmannr*  He  produced  a 
check  book  from  his  pocket  and  advanced  to  the 
table.  "I  shall  not  be  less  prompt."  He  drew  up 
a  chair,  sat  down  and  filled  up  a  check,  already 
signed  by  Messrs.  Lammartin,  for  twenty  million 
francs.     "I  congratulate  you  on  your  deal,  Victor!" 

M.  de  Marieux  smiled  as  he  signed  the  transfer 
of  the  concessions  and  pushed  the  bundle  of  docu- 
ments across  to  his  friend. 

'Toiler  he  said.    ''Cest  tout!" 

"Not  quite  all,  lieher  Victor,'*  replied  the  Ger- 
man.   "One  moment." 

He  took  a  sheet  of  note  paper  from  the  desk  and 
wrote  rapidly:  "I — undersigned — ^Victor  de  Ma- 
rieux, acknowledge  to  have  received  twenty  million 
francs  [F'cs  20,000,000]  for  the  purchase  of  the 
newspaper  La  Feuille  du  Jour;  and  I  undertake  to 
direct  the  policy  of  the  said  newspaper  in  conform- 


162  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ity  with  whatever  directions  I  may  receive."  He 
handed  the  document  to  M.  de  Marieux. 

"Sign  it,  please/'  he  said  calmly. 

M.  de  Marieux  signed.  He  placed  the  check 
under  a  paper  weight  on  his  desk  as  the  German 
rose  from  his  seat  and  strolled  toward  the  big  bay 
window,  high  above  the  boulevard.  He  stood  there, 
looking  down  upon  the  streams  of  traffic  passing  be- 
tween the  green  trees,  the  striped  awnings  of  the 
cafes.  M.  de  Marieux  joined  him,  contemplating 
the  scene  below  with  that  enjoyment  which  the  view 
never  failed  to  produce  in  him. 

'7/  rCy  a  que  Paris ''  he  murmured  to  himself. 

Conrad  half  turned  to  him. 

^*Vous  devenez  tout  a  fait  Parisienr  he  said  sud- 
denly, his  tone  bantering. 

**Plus  Parisien  que  les  ParigotsF'  replied  De  Ma- 
rieux with  a  happy  little  laugh;  the  memory  of  his 
son  did  not  now  clash  with  the  phrase. 

The  German  saw  a  face  at  a  window  level  with 
him  on  the  other  side  of  the  boulevard.  He  stared 
at  it  fixedly.  M.  de  Marieux  returned  to  his  desk, 
bent  over  some  documents.  He  looked  up  sud- 
denly to  see  his  old  friend  standing  by  his  side — 
and  was  startled  at  the  expression  of  grim  Satanic 
humour  on  the  blond  face. 

"Hand  them  over,  De  Marieux!''  said  the  Ger- 
man.   "The  farce  has  gone  on  long  enough  I" 

"I — I  don't  understand,"  stammered  M.  de  Ma- 


THE  SPY  153 

rieux,   losing  his  self-control   almost  for  the   first 
time  in  his  life.     "What  is  it  you  want?" 

"The  plans  for  the  grand  offensive.  The  plans 
Valrouge  stole  for  you  and  of  which  you  cheated 
him.  The  plans  you  meant  to  sell  us  for  twenty 
million  francs  to  bolster  up  your  bankrupt  business 
— until  you  changed  your  mind  and  fancied  you  could 
play  a  trick  on  us!" 

M.  de  Marieux  tried  to  laugh. 

"My  dear  Conrad " 

"Enough  I"  said  the  German  in  a  voice  that  smote 
him  speechless.     "Obey!" 

He  handed  him  a  card  on  which  was  a  letter  and 
a  number,  authenticated  by  mystic  initials  in  the 
corner. 

M.  de  Marieux's  face  went  deathly  pale.  He 
sprang  from  his  seat  as  a  slave  might  at  the  entrance 
of  a  barbaric  despot,  bowed  low,  his  hands  trem- 
bling at  the  end  of  his  pendent  arms. 

**Aher,  Excellenz — I — I — had  no  idea "  he 

stammered. 

"Obey  I"  thundered  his  master. 

M.  de  Marieux  raised  his  eyes,  met  for  one  brief 
instant  the  blazing  cruel  blue  eyes  above  the  square 
ruddy  beard — and  faltered. 

"You  are  losing  your  sense  of  values,  De  Ma- 
rieux I  Remember  Valrouge  I  You,  too,  have  a  son  I 
Be  careful  he  is  not  involved  in  your  ruin!  Pro- 
duce the  plans — I  know  they  are  in  this  room  !** 

"My  son  I     My  son!"  murmured  De  Marieux. 


1154  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Once  more  he  tried  to  challenge  the  fierce  blue  eyes. 
"And  if  I  refuse?"  The  voice  sounded  strange  to 
him — not  his  own. 

"You  know  our  power,  De  Marieux.  Obey  I  You 
are  a  German.  Germany  commands  you.  And  Ger- 
many dishonours  the  son  of  the  executed  traitor!" 

Something  in  the  voice  of  the  master  was  greater 
than  the  master  himself;  something  that  called  up  a 
flitting  vision  of  a  Bavarian  soldier;  something  that 
summoned  into  activity  omnipotent  racial  instincts 
of  obedience,  of  solidarity,  in  this  German  who  had 
been  half  metamorphosed  into  a  Frenchman.  Indi- 
viduality collapsed  in  him. 

*^Zu  Befehly  Excellenzr  he  stammered,  and  went 
falteringly  across  to  the  Degas  picture. 

The  heavy  door  in  the  wall  swung  open  at  his 
touch.  He  took  out  a  thin  envelope,  glanced  to  see 
that  it  was  filled  with  flimsy  sheets  of  paper,  and 
handed  it  to  the  chief  he  had  so  long  obeyed,  now 
for  the  first  time  an  identity  to  him.  The  German 
buttoned  it  up  in  an  inside  pocket. 

"So!"  he  said.  "I  see  we  can  no  longer  trust 
you,  Mardorf." 

The  financier  trembled  at  the  ill-omened  name. 
He  threw  himself  on  his  knees. 

"Pardon,  Excellenz!     Pardon!" 

The  German  looked  down  at  him  with  an  enig- 
matic smile.  Then  he  walked  across  to  the  window, 
fixed  once  more  that  distant  face  level  with  him 


THE  SPY  155 

across  the  boulevard,  and  nodded  quickly  and  de- 
cisively.   He  turned  to  De  Marieux. 

"Get  up  !'*  he  said  brutally. 

The  financier  obeyed. 

"And — and  the  twenty  million  francs,  Excellenz? 
You — ^you  shall  have  good  value.    I  swear  it!" 

"You  can  keep  them,"  said  the  German  contemp- 
tuously.   "The  plans  are  worth  that  to  us." 

De  Marieux  stammered  his  thanks.  He  began  to 
recover  his  poise. 

"I  regret  that  I  cannot  offer  you  lunch,  Excellenz. 
I  have  an  appointment  at  twelve  o*clock." 

The  memory  of  his  son  was  now  flooding  back  on 
him.  He  craved  to  finish  this  sinister  incident  before 
the  young  man  returned.  Already  a  part  of  his  brain 
was  beginning  to  scheme  to  detach  Henri  from  his 
battery;  to  put  him  somewhere  safe. 

**Dankey  said  the  German  curtly.  "I,  also,  have 
an  appointment  at  that  hour."     He  looked  at  his 

watch.      "It   wants   two   minutes   only "      He 

smiled.    "You  have  delayed  me  longer  than  I  antici- 
pated, De  Marieux." 

"Pardon,  Excellenz!" 

At  that  moment  the  door  was  flung  open.  An 
officer  of  the  gendarmerie,  followed  by  several  men, 
entered  the  room.  He  walked  straight  to  the  finan- 
cier and  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Victor  Mardorf,  dit  Victor  de  Marieux,  I  arrest 
you,  in  the  name  of  the  Republic,  on  a  charge  of  con- 
spiring with  the  enemy!" 


156  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

M.  de  Marieux  stood,  white  and  speechless,  sway- 
ing on  his  feet. 

The  officer  turned  to  the  man  with  the  ruddy 
beard. 

"You  have  the  proof,  M.  Lammartin?" 

**La  votciy  Monsieur  de  CapitaineP*  rephed  the 
agent. 

He  handed  over  the  sheet  of  paper  on  which  M. 
de  Marieux  had  undertaken  to  obey  the  orders  of  a 
person  unnamed.  The  officer  put  It  in  his  pocket. 
He  turned  to  two  of  his  men  and  pointed  to  the 
financier. 

"Search  him!**  he  said. 

Perspiration  broke  out  on  De  Marieux's  forehead 
as  the  packet  of  Valrouge  documents  was  taken  from 
him.  He  met  the  eyes  of  the  man  who  had  betrayed 
him. 

"Valrouge  did  not  implicate  M.  de  Marieux,  I 
think,  M.  le  Capltaine?'*  said  the  German  pleas- 
antly, in  suave  French.  "Doubtless  he  had  his  rea- 
sons." 

A  wild  revolt  surged  up  In  the  wretched  man. 
He  pulled  away  one  arm  from  the  detaining  grasp 
of  the  gendarme  and  pointed  at  his  betrayer. 

"That  man  is  a  German !"  he  shrieked.  "I  swear 
it!  Arrest  him!  Arrest  him!  He  has  a  most  valu- 
able military  secret  in  his  possession.  I  swear  it! 
Arrest  him!" 

The  German  smiled. 

**Mon  cher  Capitaine,  I  am  M.  Olivier  Lammar- 


THE  SPY  157 

tin,  a  Swiss  banker.  My  papers  are  in  perfect  or- 
der. I  can  produce  them  now  or  wherever  you  wish. 
I  have  a  special  safe-conduct  from  high  authority — 
voicir 

He  produced  a  piece  of  paper,  signed  and  sealed, 
and  gave  it  to  the  officer.  It  was  returned  with  a. 
polite  bow. 

** Par  fait,  M.  Lammartin.    No  one  suspects  you." 

He  turned  to  his  prisoner,  was  about  to  order  him 
to  march,  when  once  more  the  door  was  burst  open. 
The  young  artillery  officer  dashed  into  the  room — 
stopped  in  amazement. 

"Father!"  he  cried  in  an  agony  of  apprehension. 
"Father I    What  is  this?" 

M.  de  Marieux  heaved  a  deep  sigh  as  he  stared 
at  his  horror-stricken  son;  snatched  at  a  desperate 
resolve. 

"Henri!"  he  said.  "That  man  is  a  German,  a 
spy!     He  has  betrayed  me!" 

"Betrayed  you?"  echoed  the  young  man  incredu- 
lously. 

"I  am  a  German,  Henri — I  cannot  help  it;  but 
you  are  French.  That  man  has  the  plans  for  the 
grand  offensive  in  his  pocket — ^they  will  not  believe 
me.  Don't  let  him  escape!  Shoot  him — for  the 
sake  of  France!" 

The  young  officer  whipped  out  a  revolver.  There 
was  a  deafening  detonation  in  the  room — ^the  man 
with  the  ruddy  beard  plunged  face  forward  to  the 
floor. 


168  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Father  I'*  cried  the  young  man,  a  poignant  cry 
of  intolerable  shame. 

There  was  a  second  detonation. 

The  spy  was  led  out  over  the  dead  body  of  his 
son. 

"Thank  Godl"  he  murmured. 


VI 

NACH  VERDUN! 

IN  the  long  luxuriously  furnished  saloon  car  of  the 
special  train  an  officer,  clad  in  the  field-service 
uniform  of  a  southeastern  Power,  sat  in  conversation 
with  a  colonel  of  the  German  General  Staff.  The 
deference  shown  to  him  made  it  immediately  obvious 
that  he  was  a  distinguished  personage  representing  a 
neutral  whose  friendliness  was  important.  His  dark, 
clever  eyes  rested  thoughtfully  upon  the  groups  of 
officers  with  whom  the  car  was  overcrowded.  All 
round  was  a  buzz  of  talk,  of  suppressed  excitement. 
The  air  was  thick  with  cigar  smoke. 

"/^,  Excellenz/'  said  the  German  colonel,  pudgy 
little  fingers  drumming  the  table  between  them;  "the 
secret  is  out.  You  have  rightly  guessed  our  ob- 
jective." His  eyes  were  those  of  a  rather  clumsy 
and  not  too  scrupulous  diplomat.  His  smile  was  de- 
liberate flattery.  "Allow  me  to  congratulate  you 
upon  your  good  fortune.  You  will  see  the  machinery 
of  our  KriegsivirtschaftUchkeit  (War  Economy)" — 
he  throated  the  word  impressively — "at  the  moment 
when  it  works  at  its  highest  power  to  shape  for  Ger- 
many her  final  victory." 

159 


160  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  distinguished  neutral  smiled  also,  perfectly 
courteous.     He  spoke  with  a  faint  Austrian  accent. 

"I  can  understand  your  desire  for  the  finaV* — he 
emphasised  the  word  ever  so  lightly— "victory,  Herr 
Oherstr 

The  German  stared  at  him,  suspicious  of  the  nim- 
bler brain. 

"Who  would  not  desire  it,  Excellenz?  This  awful 

slaughter ''    He  waved  a  deprecating  hand.    "It 

is  terrible  that  our  adversaries  do  not  recognise  they 
are  already  beaten." 

The  neutral  nodded.  "Bar-le-Duc  and  the  Upper 
Marne,  I  suppose — Paris!" 

The  German  colonel's  eyes  went  dead. 

**Excellenz,  I  believe  the  supreme  command  re- 
serves to  itself  the  honour  of  enlightening  you  on  its 
plans." 

The  conversation  languished.  The  train  rolled 
on,  heavily  comfortable.  The  staff  officers  talked 
earnestly  among  themselves,  the  word  Majestdt  oft 
repeated.  Orderlies,  garbed  as  soldiers,  but  obvi- 
ously royal  Kammerdiener,  stole  noiselessly  in  and 
out  of  the  car,  went  frequently  into  the  car  beyond. 
On  those  occasions  the  distinguished  neutral  had  a 
glimpse  of  a  world-familiar  figure,  upturned  mous- 
taches on  a  tired  face,  a  uniform  of  grey  hung  with 
many  decorations. 

The  train  rolled  into  a  station,  stopped.  The 
blare  of  a  military  band  started  on  the  precise  in- 
stant of  its  arrival.     The  platform  was  thronged 


NACH  VERDUN!  161 

with  officers,  bright  with  the  red  of  the  General 
Statt. 

The  distinguished  neutral  took  little  interest  in 
the  ceremony  outside.  He  busied  himself  with  col- 
lecting the  small  articles  of  his  kit.  Through  the 
large  windows  he  glimpsed  the  salutes  of  the  rigidly- 
erect  officers.  Above  the  noise  of  the  band  he  heard 
the  repeated  Hochf  Hochf  Hochf  of  soldiers,  who 
cheered  as  they  drilled,  exactly  synchronous. 

He  stepped  onto  the  platform,  followed  by  the 
colonel  appointed  to  be  his  conductor.  Majestdt 
had  already  departed.  Officers  were  thronging  to 
the  exit,  laughing  and  talking,  much  excited,  reveal- 
ing, despite  the  grey  and  red  of  the  staff  uniform,  the 
essential  childishness  of  the  crowd-mind.  ^^Nach 
VerdunF*  said  one  of  them,  very  close  to  the  dis- 
tinguished neutral,  nudging  another  in  the  ribs. 
''Nach  Verdunr 

He  repeated  the  just  given  watchword  of  victory 
as  a  schoolboy  repeats  the  latest  smart  expression. 
The  officers  round  him  laughed.  The  crowd  buzzed 
with  high  spirits. 

Outside  the  station  the  roadway  was  choked  with 
waiting  motor  cars,  lined  with  soldiers  readjusting 
their  helmets  after  tumultuous  Hochsf  Some  cars — 
those  containing  the  highest  personages — had  al- 
ready departed.  One  after  another  those  remaining 
were  filled,  swerved  out  and  sped  away.  The  dis- 
tinguished neutral  and  his  companion  found  a  vehi- 
cle reserved  for  them.     The  colonel  led  him  to  it 


162  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

with  an  air  that  suggested:  '*See  how  the  smallest 
details  are  thought  out !"  They,  too,  sped  away. 

Behind  the  soldiers  were  a  few  listless  French  in- 
habitants; from  the  windows  of  that  French  town 
hung  German  flags;  but  no  French  faces  looked  out. 
The  shops  were  open,  but  their  owners  stood  not  at 
the  doors.  The  neutral  noted  these  things.  The 
complete  apathy  of  the  population  was  in  contrast 
to  stories  his  companion  had  related  in  the  train. 
In  many  of  the  side  streets  long  convoys  of  ammu- 
nition and  ration  wagons  were  halted  to  allow  them 
passage.  On  one  of  those  foremost  wagons  was 
scrawled  in  big  chalk  letters:  Nach  Verdun! 

Nach  Verdun! — ^that  was  the  leitmotif  underlying 
all  the  intense  military  activity  that  filled  the  town 
and,  as  they  shot  out  beyond  the  houses,  the  coun- 
tryside also.  Every  road  was  choked  with  columns 
of  marching  infantry,  with  endless  trains  of  wagons, 
of  limbers,  of  ambulances.  Even  cavalry  was  in  evi- 
dence, riding  with  tall  lances  and  saddle-hung  rifles 
on  wretched-looking  horses.  Nach  Verdun!  The 
German  colonel,  though  he  warily  gave  no  informa- 
tion, could  talk  of  nothing  else.  Under  that  grey 
February  sky  pulsed  and  boomed  the  distant  detona- 
tions of  artillery.  The  neutral  listened  to  it  with  a 
professional  ear,  was  puzzled.  It  was  persistent 
enough,  but  it  was  certainly  not  the  prolonged  roar 
of  a  preparatory  bombardment. 

The  car  swung  into  the  drive  of  a  park.  A  tun- 
nel of  winter-stripped  trees,   brown   above,   green 


NACH  VERDUN!  163 

streaking  the  bark,  and  then  a  large  chateau  drew 
itself  across  the  vista.  Thither  the  other  cars  had 
preceded  them.  They  stood  now,  ranked  in  a  mass. 
There  was  a  throng  of  officers  round  the  great 
doors,  the  buzz  awakened  by  the  recent  passage  of 
the  All-Highest.  The  neutral  was  shown  to  his 
room,  the  German  colonel  volubly  regretting  that 
exigencies  of  space  forced  him  to  share  it. 

Some  hours  later  the  neutral  was  ushered  into  a 
vast  lofty  apartment  whose  tapestried  walls  were 
almost  completely  rehung  with  the  huge  maps  pinned 
upon  them.  On  easels  stood  other  maps,  strange 
diagrams  in  curves  and  slants  of  red,  green  and 
black  ink.  On  a  large  table  was  a  horizontal  relief 
model  of  hills  and  woods,  a  river  with  tributary 
streams,  a  splash  of  red  in  the  valley,  thin  lines  of 
red  converging  upon  it,  passing  through,  opening  out 
again.  On  all  these  maps,  on  the  splash  of  red  in 
the  relief  model,  the  name  Verdun  was  repeated 
again  and  again. 

All  these  things  the  neutral  officer  noticed  with  the 
corner  of  his  eye — the  large  writing  tables  behind 
which  sat  officers  of  high  rank,  other  officers  grouped 
in  a  corner.  His  direct  gaze  was  held  by  the  figure 
he  saluted.  Spare,  of  medium  height,  in  the  grey 
field-service  uniform  of  a  general,  gold  cord  looping 
across  his  right  breast,  a  star  upon  the  left  above 
collar,  the  would-be  conqueror  of  the  world  stood 
stiffly  erect  and  graciously  acknowledged  his  salute. 
The  brushed-up  moustache  was  still  dark,  though 


164*  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  short  hair  on  the  head  was  grey — almost  white. 
The  face  was  deeply  furrowed  with  endless  anxie- 
ties; but  the  blue  eyes — ^pouched  though  were  their 
underlids — gleamed  with  excitement.  He  spoke  in 
a  jerky  but  distinct  manner  that  betrayed  a  tempera- 
ment of  long  ill-controlled  impulses. 

*'Guten  Abend y  Herr  Generate/  Welcome  to  Ger- 
many's greatest  hour !  You  shall  see  our  sun  mount 
triumphantly  to  its  zenith,  breaking  through  the  dark 
clouds  of  foes  who  cluster  over  against  us  in  vain  1" 
The  tone  was  that  of  a  rhetoric  practised  until  it  has 
become  a  habit.  The  right  hand  gesticulated  with 
quick  motions;  the  left  arm  was  conspicuously  still. 
"General" — he  turned  to  one  of  the  officers  sitting 
at  the  tables — "be  so  good  as  to  explain  everything 
to  our  friend  here." 

It  was  to  be  clearly  understood  that  the  All-High- 
est was  flatteringly  gracious.  The  neutral  officer 
bowed,  expressed  his  thanks  courteously,  and  ven- 
tured a  request : 

"May  I  be  allowed  to  admire  your  War  Machine 
in  all  its  work,  Majestdt — go  where  I  will?" 

"By  all  means,  general.  We  have  nothing  to  hide. 
You  will  find  much  to  interest  you,  much  to  relate  to 
our  well-wishers  in  your  country.  General,  see  that 
a  pass  is  given  to  our  friend  that  will  give  him  the 
fullest  freedom."  The  All-Highest  answered  the 
neutral's  salute  in  a  maner  that  terminated  the  con- 
versation. 

Seated  at  the  huge  carved  writing  table  with  the 


NACH  VERDUN!  165 

officer  to  whom  he  had  been  addressed,  the  neutral 
found  himself  looking  at  a  pair  of  keen  grey  eyes 
that  peered  through  pince-nez  under  bushy  white 
eyebrows.  The  German  spread  out  maps,  indicated 
positions.  He  drew  notice  to  the  fact  that  all  roads 
squeezed  through  a  bottle  neck  over  the  river  at 
Verdun,  spread  out  In  a  fan  on  the  east  bank  to  a 
long  line  of  positions  that  climbed  from  the  river 
over  the  Heights  of  the  Meuse,  and  fell  into  the 
plain  of  the  Woevre,  across  which  they  bent  south- 
ward. 

**Die  Sache  ist  duszerst  einfachT* — "The  thing  is 
absolutely  simple!" — he  said  with  the  air  of  a  man 
explaining  a  chess  problem.  "The  French  have 
three  divisions  of  Territorials  in  front  of  us  to  hold 
the  entire  sector.  That  force  is  not  strong  enough 
to  defend  it,  and  certainly  too  weak  to  have  kept  the 
trench  systems  in  good  repair ;  in  fact,  we  know  that 
they  have  been  allowed  to  fall  into  ruin." — ^Vide  Mr. 
John  Buchan's  History  of  the  War,  Vol.  XIII. — 
"We  have  fifteen  divisions  in  our  front  line,  fifteen 
divisions  in  reserve.  We  do  not  intend  to  fling  those 
divisions  away.  No.  Step  by  step  our  artillery  will 
blast  a  passage  for  them — see,  here  are  our  artillery 
positions." 

He  showed  concentric  lines,  one  within  the  other, 
on  the  map,  round  the  doomed  sector. 

"It  is  the  greatest  artillery  concentration  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  Even  our  concentration  on  the  Do- 
najetz  last  year  is  surpassed.     We  shall  obliterate 


166  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  positions  In  front  of  us — other  batteries  will 
drench  the  only  avenues  of  supplies  with  shells ;  they 
must  all  go  through  the  town — our  infantry  will 
merely  march  into  the  devastated  position,  wait  for 
the  clearance  of  the  next  step.  I  may  tell  you  that 
the  French  have  only  one  small  branch  railroad  line 
which  is  safe  from  our  fire.  We  have  built  fourteen 
new  lines,  besides  those  already  existing.  In  the 
great  problem  of  supply  we  have  an  overwhelming 
superiority.  We  believe  we  have  the  advantage  of 
surprise.  Certainly  the  French  have  no  concentra- 
tion within  easy  reach.  In  four  days  we  shall  be 
in  Verdun.  The  Western  Front  will  have  been 
broken.'* 

*'In  four  days  I"  The  neutral  officer  looked  at  the 
map  as  a  chess  player  looks  at  the  board.  "And — If 
I  might  ask  the  question — suppose  you  do  not  take 
Verdun  in  four  days?  There  is  said  to  be  an  enor- 
mous Allied  force  somewhere  In  France." 

"We  have  yet  another  day,"  said  the  German  a 
little  wearily,  as  though  resenting  the  effort  to  ex- 
plain the  unnecessary.  "We  have  five  clear  days 
before  any  re-enforcements  can  be  brought  up  against 
us — all  the  chances  have  been  calculated,  you  see.  If 
we  are  not  In  Verdun  by  the  evening  of  the  fifth  day 
—well,  the  battle  will  continue.  But  I  repeat,  we 
shall  be  in  Verdun  within  four  days.  The  thing  is 
certain  1" 

"Of  course  it  is,  general,"  said  another  voice 
above  their  heads.    Both  officers  looked  up,  rose  to 


NACH  VERDUN!  167 

their  feet.  "In  four  days  we  shall  be  in  Verdun. 
In  a  fortnight — Paris!" 

The  speaker  was  a  youngish  man  with  a  long  nose 
in  a  long  face,  somewhat  bald  upon  the  brow,  a 
clipped  moustache  above  a  long,  thin  mouth.  There 
was  something  in  his  manner  that  suggested  not  too 
reputable  finance,  doubled  with  Monte  Carlo  and  the 
coulisses.  He  repeated,  smacking  his  hand  famil- 
iarly upon  the  back  of  the  distinguished  neutral : 

"In  a  fortnight — Paris!"  He  named  the  famous 
city  with  a  smack  of  the  lips. 

"Undoubtedly,  Highness,"  said  the  German  gen- 
eral, his  professional  manner  replaced  by  the  obse- 
quiousness of  the  courtier.  "The  army  led  by  Your 
Highness  cannot  fail  to  conquer." 

"Verdun — Paris  I  This  time  it  will  not  fail,  gen- 
eral." He  walked  across  the  room,  smacking  a  rid- 
ing switch  on  his  tall  patent-leather  hussar  boots,  and 
chanting:  *^Nach  Verdun!  Nach  Verdun — Paris T 
— Nach  means  "to,  toward,"  and  also  "after" — 
"To  Verdun  I    After  Verdun— Paris  I" 

The  morning  of  the  twenty-first  of  February, 
19 1 6,  opened  damp  and  bleak.  Over  the  heavy  clay 
fields  of  the  Woevre  plain  the  mist  hung  persistently, 
inclosing  all  vision  in  a  few  hundred  yards.  Through 
the  obscurity  the  poplars  lining  the  roads  loomed  up 
like  ghosts,  dripping  moisture  from  each  bare  twig. 
In  the  copses  and  the  larger  stretch  of  woodland 
known  as  the  Foret  de  Spincourt  the  conglobulated 
mist  fell  like  rain.     From  each  of  the  high  knolls 


168  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

known  as  the  Twins  of  Ornes,  just  southwest  of  the 
Foret  de  Spincourt,  the  wooded  slopes  of  the 
Heights  of  the  Meuse — Herbebois  and  the  Bois  de 
Wavrille — rose  dark  and  indefinite,  discernible  only 
when  a  little  puff  of  the  raw  east  wind,  coming  up 
the  valley  of  the  Orne,  broke  a  rift  in  the  fog. 

The  neutral  and  the  German  Oherst  who  was  his 
inseparable  companion  stood  on  the  more  southerly 
of  the  twin  heights.  About  them  was  a  group  of 
artillery  officers.  In  their  immediate  front  was  the 
deep  dugout,  sod-roofed,  where  telephonists  sat  and 
waited.  It  was  an  artillery  observation  post.  The 
light  was  yet  dim,  though  the  wet  fog  was  white. 
It  had  been  quite  dark  when  the  two  spectators  had 
made  their  way  over  roads  deep  in  mud  to  this  posi- 
tion of  vantage. 

The  journey  had  been  long,  for  their  car  had  to 
squeeze,  lurching  and  slithering,  past  endless  col- 
umns of  infantry  plodding  over  the  atrocious  roads. 
In  the  darkness  those  thousands  of  men  had  been 
scarcely  more  visible  than  phantoms,  who  sang  con- 
tinuously as  they  marched,  chorusing  to  the  tune  set 
by  picked  singers  at  the  head  of  each  company. 
Those  who  were  merely  the  chorus  broke  off  fre- 
quently to  shout  witticisms  at  the  labouring  motor 
car.  In  high  spirits  they  wagered  that  they  would 
be  the  first,  after  all,  to  arrive  in  Verdun. 

On  the  hilltop  of  the  Twin  of  Ornes,  where  the 
officers  clustered,  was  tense  expectation.  The  fog 
did  not  lift.   Only  at  rare  intervals  was  there  a  faint 


NACH  VERDUN!  169 

glimpse  of  the  wooded  heights  toward  which  all 
gazed  with  thrilling  fore-knowledge.  As  yet  all  was 
a  quiet,  broken  only  by  an  occasional  isolated  detona- 
tion that  rolled  heavily  down  the  Orne  Valley.  It 
echoed  In  a  dull  repercussion  from  the  mist-filled 
woods  upon  the  great  scarp  that  was  the  far-flung 
rampart  of  the  doomed  city.  An  officer  looked  at 
his  watch.  The  example  was  infectious.  The  min- 
utes passed  slowly.  It  was  like  waiting  for  the  cur- 
tain to  go  up.  The  watches  marked  8:13 — German 
time — 8:14 — 8:15  I 

There  was  one  simultaneous  vast  roar,  which 
leaped  from  an  arc  stretching  from  far  In  the  north- 
west and  passing  round  behind  them  to  the  south.  It 
did  not  cease.  Minute  after  minute  It  continued, 
unabated,  prolonged.  In  the  first  sudden  shock  it 
appeared  one  colossal  bellow  of  sound,  evenly  main- 
tained. But  as  the  ear  became  accustomed  to  It,  In- 
stinctively analysed  It,  It  was  possible  to  distinguish 
spasms  of  even  fiercer  sound  than  the  general  welter 
— the  ponderous  concussion  of  specially  heavy  ord- 
nance; the  frenzied  hammering  of  the  quick-firing 
field  guns.  The  sense  of  hearing  was  overwrought, 
but  the  view  changed  not.  The  mist  still  hung  over 
the  landscape,  was  a  curtain  before  the  straining  eye. 
Only  down  below  them,  on  the  right,  a  howitzer  bat- 
tery, adventurously  pushed  forward,  rent  the  fog 
with  stabs  of  orange-red  flame. 

It  seemed.  In  the  overpowering  blast  of  the  Ger- 
man guns,  that  the  French  artillery  was  making  no 


170  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

general  reply.  From  time  to  time  a  shell  came  whin- 
ing over  toward  them,  finished  in  an  ugly  rush  and  a 
crash  somewhere  upon  the  knoll.  They  scarcely 
noticed  these  occasional  jinns  of  death,  so  ineffective 
were  they  by  contrast  with  the  whirlwind  of  destruc- 
tion that  swept  the  other  way.  The  habitual  ear 
could  now  pick  out  the  rumbling  tramcarlike  prog- 
ress of  the  heavy  shells  overhead,  the  fierce  rushing 
drone  of  the  missiles  from  lighter  guns,  mingling 
interwoven  with  the  uninterrupted  sheet  of  sound. 

What  was  happening  over  there  among  the  dank 
wooded  hills?  Nothing  could  be  seen;  but  the  ex- 
perienced imagination  sketched,  conscious  that  it  fell 
below  the  reality,  fearful  havoc  distant  in  the  fog. 
Trees  suddenly  blasted,  toppling;  parapets  leaping 
into  the  air — horrors  in  the  spout  of  earth  that  had 
been  a  sheltered  dugout;  trenches  whose  walls  fell 
in;  men  who  cowered,  fear-paralysed,  in  a  sham- 
bles ;  overhead  a  ceaseless  cracking  that  rained  down 
death;  shock  upon  shock;  chaos — such  flitted  through 
the  minds  of  those  who  strained  their  eyes  at  the  fog. 
An  artillery  observation  officer  turned  to  the  neutral. 

''Five  hours  of  this,  Excellenz/^  he  said  with  a 
smile — "and  then  the  first  step  to  Verdun  I" 

The  Oherst  expatiated  on  the  wonderful  German 
system  for  supplying  all  these  batteries  indefinitely 
at  this  intensity  of  fire.  "Who  can  resist  us?"  was 
the  implied  corollary  to  his  dissertation.  The  neu- 
tral was  duly  impressed,  his  dark  clever  eyes  serious. 

The  bombardment  continued,  became  monotonous. 


NACH  VERDUN!  171 

The  fog  thinned  somewhat,  but  permitted  no  clear 
vision.  The  batteries  were  firing  by  the  map,  ac- 
cording to  a  prearranged  programme.  The  Oherst 
suggested  to  his  distinguished  guest  that  further  stay 
was  useless. 

"I  should  like  to  see  your  guns  at  work,  Herr 
Oherst,'*  said  the  neutral,  and  the  colonel  saw  him- 
self forced  to  put  aside  his  hopes  of  returning  to 
Corps  Headquarters  for  Mittagsessen;  he  specu- 
lated on  the  Divisional  Messes  in  their  vicinity  as  he 
replied : 

"By  all  means,  Excellenz/' 

They  scrambled  down  the  rough  path  of  the 
knoll,  through  a  thin  growth  of  birch,  passed  into 
the  denser  mist  below. 

They  found  themselves  suddenly  among  long  ranks 
of  resting  infantry  squatting  and  lying  in  close  prox- 
imity to  their  piled  arms.  The  feld-grau  uniforms 
merged,  were  lost  in  the  fog;  but  there  was  an  inde- 
finable suggestion  of  the  presence  of  many  thousands. 
The  Oherst  and  his  guest  might  walk  where  they 
would — the  shadowy  grey  forms  still  loomed  up  out 
of  the  fog.  All  were  cheerful  and  confident.  The 
ofllicers  in  little  groups,  smiling  as  they  conversed, 
bent  over  a  map.  The  men  were  grinning.  They 
were  waiting  for  the  guns  to  level  the  path  for  their 
promenade. 

At  last  the  ranks  of  infantry  ceased.  They  came 
upon  a  field  battery  that  was  firing  furiously.  The 
guns  were  in  the  open,  their  upturned  caissons — lid 


m  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

upright  to  form  a  shield,  exposing  the  pigeonholed 
bases  of  the  cartridges — close  against  the  left  wheel. 
Grouped  behind  each  were  the  busy  gunners,  in  rapid 
movement  of  arms  and  torso,  crouching,  labouring 
with  swift  concentrated  intensity  as  they  passed  the 
long  gleaming  projectile  from  hand  to  hand,  thrust 
it  into  the  breech,  closed  and  fired.  Behind  them 
was  a  heap  of  brass  cartridge  cases,  the  flat  com- 
partmented  baskets  that  had  held  three  rounds.  The 
watching  officers,  helmeted,  in  long  closely  buttoned 
coats,  stood  behind  their  sections.  The  battery 
hurled  out  its  stream  of  death  in  absolute  immunity. 
No  enemy  shell  came  to  seek  it.  The  fog  veiled  its 
target. 

Beyond  that  battery  was  another,  in  the  open  like 
the  first,  almost  wheel  to  wheel  with  it.  And  be- 
yond that,  another,  and  yet  others — an  endless  chain 
of  them,  all  scorning  concealment;  all  firing  as  fast 
as  sweating,  straining  men  could  load  and  pull  the 
lever.  From  behind  came  the  prolonged,  heavy, 
linked  detonations  of  yet  other  batteries  of  more 
weighty  metal.  Overhead  the  rumble  and  rush  of 
hurrying  shells  was  as  the  sound  of  heavy  traffic. 

The  neutral  and  his  guide  turned  eastward  toward 
the  zone  of  the  great  howitzers.  Once  more  they 
were  entangled  in  waiting  masses  of  grey-clad  in- 
fantry. The  mist  had  thinned,  permitting  quite  long 
vistas.  Everywhere  there  was  infantry,  battalion 
upon  battalion,  regiment  on  regiment,  brigade  after 
brigade.     The  time  had  passed  almost  unnoticed — 


NACH  VERDUN!  173 

by  the  neutral  at  least — so  much  was  there  for  his 
brain  to  register;  it  was  now  almost  noon.  The 
infantry  was  standing  to  its  ranks,  forming  into 
column  of  route,  marching  forward  with  songs  and 
shouts,  their  spiked  helmets  decorated  with  sprigs 
of  fir.  ^^VorwdrtsP*  came  the  sharp,  barking  com- 
mands of  the  officers.  **Nach  VerdunF*  shouted  the 
excited  men,  drunk  with  the  prospect  of  superbly 
easy  victory. 

And  ever  the  indefatigable  batteries  hammered 
and  crashed,  spewing  forth  death  in  volumes  that  the 
men  they  served  might  live.  From  behind  every 
hedge,  every  hillock;  in  long  lines  across  the  open — 
so  many  that  they  could  afford  to  neglect  the  enemy*s 
reply — their  tongues  of  flame  shot  out,  flickered  in- 
definitely repeated  into  the  distance.  Their  infi- 
nitely reiterated  detonations  smote  splittingly  upon 
the  ear,  were  gathered  into  one  overpowering  roar. 

The  dark  mass  of  the  Foret  de  Spincourt  was 
riven  by  red  flame  that  lit  and  was  gone  momentarily 
in  every  part  of  its  recesses.  As  the  two  officers  ap- 
proached it  they  saw  a  faint  film  of  smoke  hanging 
over  the  treetops,  saw  the  quick  flashes  gleaming 
through  the  undergrowth  of  the  verge.  They  en- 
tered its  obscurity.  The  air  choked  one  with  the 
fumes  of  burnt  explosive,  beat  against  the  face  in 
gusts  with  the  disturbance  of  the  multiplied  dis- 
charges. The  wood  was  a  nest  of  howitzer  bat- 
teries. On  platforms  of  concrete  and  timber  the 
monsters   squatted,   bowed  their  heads  to  receive 


174  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

yet  another  shell,  raised  them  again  with  slow,  de- 
termined movement,  the  great  round  jaws  gaping 
upward  to  the  sky;  belched  with  a  sudden  eructation 
of  vivid  flame,  a  tremendous  shock  of  which  the 
stunning  noise  was  only  part. 

The  spectator  behind  the  gun,  looking  upward, 
saw  a  black  object  speeding  high  into  the  air,  rap- 
idly diminishing,  the  while  a  rain  of  twigs  pattered 
down  upon  his  face. 

As  the  barrel  was  lowered  again,  the  breech 
opened;  slow  curling  tongues  of  flame  licked  round 
the  muzzle.  Behind  each  weapon  were  great  stacks 
of  shells.  Hurrying  men,  two  at  a  time,  with  a  tray 
supported  on  two  short  poles  between  them,  carried 
more  food  to  the  iron  monster,  fed  its  fuming  breech 
for  yet  another  roar. 

Farther  within  the  wood  were  still  greater  mon- 
sters, so  huge  that  their  aliment  was  trundled  to 
them  on  light  rails,  swung  into  their  maws  by  over- 
hanging cranes.  The  earth  shook,  the  trees  rocked 
with  the  vehemence  of  their  discharge. 

*'Frau  Bertha  has  a  most  persuasive  voice — nicht 
wahrf^  said  the  Oherst  to  his  guest. 

The  neutral  agreed  as  courteously  as  was  possible 
in  this  chaos  of  bludgeoning  noise.  His  dark  eyes 
rested  a  little  contemptuously  on  the  dapper,  some- 
what pudgy  colonel,  whose  soul,  even  in  this  crisis  of 
nations,  was  still  essentially  the  soul  of  a  commercial 
traveller.    The  order  to  Krupps  was  not  yet  given. 

It  was  one  o'clock — ^noon  to  the  anxious  French 


NACH  VERDUN!  175 

general  far  over  there  in  the  terrible  distance.  As 
suddenly  as  it  had  commenced,  the  vast  bombardment 
ceased.  There  was  an  uncanny  silence.  All  knew 
its  significance.  The  German  infantry  was  advanc- 
ing to  the  assault.  With  what  resistance  would  it 
be  met?  Every  ear  was  at  strain — ^machine  guns? 
There  was  no  sound.  Suddenly  the  bombardment 
opened  again,  as  violent  as  before.  The  German 
guns  were  putting  a  screen  of  death  behind  the 
doomed  positions,  barring  off  all  help.  Far  away 
huge  shells  were  crashing  down  from  a  curve  that 
was  four  miles  high  at  its  zenith,  making  an  inferno 
of  a  once  quiet  cathedral  town,  wrecking  the  bridges 
across  a  flooded  river,  blocking  every  avenue  of  sup- 
ply to  the  defenders  agonising  on  the  plateau. 

That  night  in  the  Army  Headquarters  was  a  night 
of  jubilation.  Courtier  soldiers — who  none  the  less 
laboured  into  the  small  hours  at  the  intricate  calcu- 
lations and  orders  that  would  improve  the  victory 
on  the  morrow — glanced  at  a  youngish,  very  exalted 
personage,  and  murmured  platitudes  about  the  par- 
donable intoxication  of  success.  An  even  more  ex- 
alted personage  strode  from  general  to  general  in 
the  great  tapestried,  map-hung  apartment,  and  gave 
instructions  that  were  received  as  the  inspiration  of 
genius,  and  then  merged,  lost  sight  of,  nullified  in 
the  mass  of  orders  that  emanated  from  those  fiercely 
toiling  brains. 

The  distinguished  guest  sat  at  the  table  with  the 


176  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

keen-eyed,  white-browed  general,  and  had  everything 
patiently  explained  to  him. 

"All  has  gone  exactly  according  to  schedule,"  said 
the  German.  "The  first  line  positions  are  ours. 
There  has  been  a  counterattack  in  the  Bois  de 
Caures;  but  we  have  stemmed  it.  Elsewhere  there 
has  been  no  serious  opposition.  The  first  day  has 
been  a  brilliant  success.  We  have  pierced  the  line 
where  we  intended  to  pierce  it.  If  the  French  main- 
tain their  flank  positions  their  disaster  is  certain. 
The  battle  will  be  developed  to-morrow.  We  shall 
drive  right  through  to  the  Ornes-Louvemont  road. 
The  French  defence  is  dead;  was  annihilated  by  our 
bombardment.  To-morrow  disintegration  will  set 
in  and  our  progress  will  be  rapid.  On  the  third  day 
we  shall  take  Fort  Douaumont — the  key  to  Ver- 
dun." 

"And  on  the  fourth  day?"  queried  the  neutral,  his 
dark  eyes  gazing  at  the  map  in  front  of  him. 

"We  shall  be  in  Verdun!"  said  the  German. 

**  Verdun!  Verdun!  Nach  Verdun — Paris!** 
chanted  an  unsteady  voice  across  the  room,  and  fin- 
ished in  a  suspicious  resemblance  to  a  hiccup. 

There  was  a  moment  of  tense,  awkward  silence 
in  the  great  apartment,  and  then  a  buzz  of  low  voices 
earnestly  discussing  technicalities. 

Day  followed  day,  surcharged  with  fateful  issues. 
Men  who  flung  themselves  down,  utterly  wearied,  to 
snatch  a  brief  sleep,  woke  from  it  with  an  oppression 
of  the  breast,  a  tremor  of  the  nerves.   Their  fiercely 


NACH  VERDUN!  177 

excited  brains  begrudged  an  instant's  unconsciousness 
where  every  minute  was  a  vehicle  of  destiny — once 
ahead,  never  to  be  overtaken.  Strenuously,  night 
and  day,  laboured  the  staffs  in  the  Army  Headquar- 
ters, in  the  corps,  divisions,  artillery  groups — des- 
perately; for  after  the  second  day  they  were  behind 
their  time-table. 

On  that  second  day  the  French  defence  they  had 
fondly  thought  annihilated  woke  to  sternly  resisting 
life.  There  had  been  terrific  fighting  on  the  whole 
front  from  Brabant  to  Ornes.  Once  more  a  fright- 
ful bombardment  had  opened  with  the  dawn.  Once 
more  the  German  infantry  had  advanced  in  masses. 
They  found  the  trenches  in  front  of  them  weakly 
held;  had  occupied  them.  But  en  route  a  storm  of 
shells  had  rained  down  on  the  swarming  columns, 
had  strewn  the  ground  with  dead  and  dying.  Far- 
ther advance  was  barred  by  sheets  of  rifle  fire,  tor- 
rents of  machine-gun  bullets.  There  were  ugly  ru- 
mours as  to  losses.  The  day's  objective  had  not 
been  reached.  Counterattacks  had  flung  the  grey 
infantry  out  of  positions  already  conquered. 

During  the  black  night  between  the  twenty-second 
and  twenty-third,  while  the  gun  teams  of  the  Ger- 
man batteries  strained  and  stumbled  forward  over 
shell-torn  ground  to  new  positions,  the  French  left 
flank  had  fallen  back  from  Brabant.  The  German 
guns  hurled  an  avalanche  of  projectiles  blindly  upon 
the  new  lines  of  defence,  more  or  less  at  hazard, 
since   no    longer   did   they   have   them    accurately 


178  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

marked  upon  the  map.  Once  more  the  grey  masses 
swept  forward;  once  more  the  hail  of  shells  beat 
them  down.  The  end  of  that  day  saw  the  centre 
pushed  in  with  wild  confusion;  but  the  French  re- 
sistance, still  alive,  determined  to  perish  rather  than 
break.  Once  more  the  objective  had  not  been  at- 
tained. Douaumont  was  not  even  menaced.  The 
time-table  was  hopelessly  out.  That  night  the  French 
fell  back  on  both  flanks  and  withdrew  from  Ornes. 

The  fourth  day  dawned — the  appointed  day  for 
final  victory — and  still  the  struggle  continued, 
fiercer  than  ever.  Slowly,  slowly  the  German  infan- 
try pressed  forward,  leaving  behind  them  a  sea  of 
helpless  bodies — a  grey  carpet  as  perceived  from  a 
distance.  The  artillery  fire  swelled  and  mounted  in 
paroxysms  of  incredible  violence,  the  German  guns 
hammering  in  savage  persistence;  the  French  bat- 
teries, lurking  for  their  target,  overwhelming  it  in 
a  deluge. 

On  and  on  pressed  the  grey  infantry,  thrust  dan- 
gerously, as  night  fell,  straight  at  the  heart,  toward 
Fort  Douaumont.  A  fierce  conflict — body  to  body, 
rifles  that  flashed  in  the  face  of  the  victim, 
bayonets  perforce  shortened  for  the  thrust,  gripping 
fingers  clutching  at  the  throat  as  men  wrestled  and 
swayed — roared  in  an  indescribable  tumult  upon  the 
Ornes-Louvemont  road. 

The  defenders  had  made  a  supreme  rally.  The 
Germans  fought  like  men  who  grasp  at  victory,  mad- 
dened that  it  is  withheld.     The  French  fought  like 


NACH  VERDUN!  179 

heroes,  desperately  outnumbered,  who  know  their 
duty  is  to  die.  When  night  fell  the  defence  was  still 
intact;  but  the  French  had  withdrawn  to  their  last 
line,  covering  Douaumont. 

"We  still  have  one  more  day,"  said  the  German 
general  to  the  distinguished  neutral  that  night  in  the 
great  map-hung  apartment.  "We  allowed  that  mar- 
gin of  time.  To-morrow  will  see  our  greatest  ef- 
fort, Douaumont  in  our  hands,  Verdun  untenable.'* 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  neutral  read  a  certain  nerv- 
ousness in  the  German's  face,  despite  the  confident 
tone. 

"It  has  proved  rather  more  difficult  than  you  ex- 
pected?" 

"The  French  field  guns  have  been  terrible — ^ter- 
rible!" replied  the  German.     "Without  them " 

He  waved  an  expressive  hand.  "But  to-morrow  we' 
shall  deliver  the  coup  de  gfdce.  We  have  not 
boasted  idly,  Excellenz/*  His  eyes  looked  search- 
ingly  through  their  pince-nez  at  the  calmly  interested 
face  of  the  neutral.  "When  Germany  threatens  she 
performs." 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-fifth  the  German 
guns  roared  over  white  fields  of  snow,  through  veils 
of  the  softly  falling  flakes  that  fluttered  inexhausti- 
bly from  the  leaden  sky.  Their  thunder  swelled 
louder  and  ever  louder  as  the  batteries,  which  had 
changed  position  consequently  upon  the  French  with- 
drawal during  the  night,  got  to  work,  searching  for 


180  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

their  target,  more  or  less  accurately  finding  it,  de- 
spite the  difficulty  of  observation. 

Not  a  minute  was  to  be  lost.  The  anxious  Ger- 
man Staff  knew  that  the  re-enforcements  of  their  foes 
must  be  hurrying — hurrying.  Some  perhaps  had 
already  arrived.  If  night  fell  without  definite  vic- 
tory the  morrow  would  surely  see  fresh  masses 
against  them,  reinvigorating  the  defence.  Victory 
to-day — complete  victory — Douaumont  captured,  the 
pursuit  pressed  into  the  streets  of  Verdun — meant 
victory  indeed. 

Mighty,  therefore,  was  the  effort.  By  noon  every 
German  battery  was  firing  at  its  maximum.  Under 
the  leaden  sky,  over  the  white  ground,  in  the  still 
cold  of  a  bitter  frost,  their  thunder  swelled  and 
crashed,  roaring  in  a  never-ending  frenzy.  Eighteen 
German  divisions  were  massed  to  break  down  all  op- 
position. Already  they  had  attacked — again  and 
again.  Again  and  again  the  rapid  detonations  of 
the  French  guns  had  leaped  into  the  din,  smiting 
desperately,  frantically,  to  stay  them.  Over  there, 
in  the  mist-hung  gullies  of  the  plateau,  on  its  bare 
open  spaces  between  the  woods,  the  snow  had  ceased 
to  be  white — save  where  it  fell  freshly  upon  the 
huddled  bodies  of  the  fallen. 

In  the  afternoon  the  weather  cleared  somewhat. 
More  distant  views  were  possible.  On  the  higher 
of  the  Twins  of  Ornes,  the  knolls  just  southwest  of 
the  Foret  de  Spincourt,  stood  the  figure  who,  more 
than  any  other  individual,  would  have  to  dare  the 


NACH  VERDUN!  181 

answer  for  all  the  agony  rolled  out  there  before 
him;  for  all  the  agony  that  no  eye  could  measure, 
spread  over  continents,  crying  to  strange  stars. 

Spiked  helmet  on  his  head,  a  long  grey  cavalry 
cloak  wrapped  about  him,  his  field  glasses  held  to  his 
eyes  by  the  right  hand  only,  he  gazed  upon  the  now 
distant  conflict.  At  his  side  stood  a  younger  figure, 
his  face  masked  also  by  a  binocular.  Behind  them 
were  a  group  of  dignitaries,  generals  of  high  posi- 
tion, the  distinguished  neutral  and  the  Oberst  who 
never  quitted  him.  All  gazed  on  the  scarp  of  the 
Heights  of  the  Meuse,  their  glasses  pointing  south- 
south-west. 

The  great  masses  of  woodland  rose  dark  from  the 
snow  of  the  plain,  a  long  stretch  of  undulating  climb- 
ing treetops.  Beyond  them  the  bare  bulk  of  the 
plateau  humped  itself  yet  higher,  dirty  grey  against 
the  sky.  It  rose  to  a  culminating  knoll — Douau- 
mont  I  All  that  bare  plateau  was  whelmed  in  a  drift- 
ing reek ;  but  the  highest  point  was  like  a  volcano  in^ 
eruption.  Great  founts  of  smoke  shot  up  from  it 
incessantly,  spread  in  the  air  in  heavy  plumes  that 
overhung. 

It  was  the  objective  of  the  Third  Corps — Bran- 
denburgers — attacking  under  the  eye  of  the  Kaiser, 
so  particularly  their  chief.  Their  orders  were  that 
Douaumont  was  to  be  taken  at  all  costs.  On  the 
Twin  of  Ornes  operators  from  army  headquarters 
had  taken  over  the  telephone  dugout.  Behind  them 
the  line  was  clear  to  Berlin — waiting — waiting  for 


182  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  triumphant  announcement  that  should  thrill  the 
world.  ' 

Somewhat  impatiently  the  neutral  scanned  the 
lofty  distances  where  the  great  drama  was  being 
enacted.  Innumerable  puffs  of  bursting  shells  indi- 
cated the  conflict,  but  gave  no  hint  of  its  varying 
fortunes.  The  professional  instinct  was  strong 
within  him;  the  report  to  his  government  an  ideal 
to  which  it  strove.  To  perfect  that  report  he  must 
see  the  fight  at  closer  quarters;  must  describe  the 
effects  of  the  French  fire  as  a  complement  to  the 
already  written  minute  on  the  German  batteries. 

His  keen  eye  picked  out  a  position  of  vantage  on 
the  Heights.  Then  he  waited  for  an  opportunity, 
alert  for  the  moment  when  the  eye  of  Majesty 
should  rest  itself  from  the  distant  view,  and  should 
fall  upon  him.  The  opportunity  occurred.  The 
glance  of  the  All-Highest  swept  over  him,  preoccu- 
pied. The  neutral  stepped  forward,  saluted,  and 
indicated  the  far-off  point. 

'*Ich  hitte  urn  Erlauhnis,  Majestdf* — "I  beg  per- 
mission, Your  Majesty" — he  said. 

A  frowning  glance  rested  upon  him  for  an  in- 
stant, intolerant  of  aught  save  the  mighty  contest 
whose  issue  was  the  fate  of  nations. 

''G^if^r/^^'— "Granted" — was  the  curt,  indiffer- 
ent  reply. 

The  German  Oberst,  standing  behind  the  neutral, 
changed  colour.  He  had  no  option  but  to  accom- 
pany this  damnable  foreigner  in  his  mad  adventure 


NACH  VERDUN  t  183 

into  unnecessary  danger.  He,  too,  saluted  Majestdt 
and  followed  the  neutral  to  the  spot  where  a  number 
of  orderlies  stood  at  the  heads  of  saddled  horses. 
They  had  been  sent  forward  in  case  the  dignitaries 
should  require  them. 

In  a  few  moments  the  two  officers,  followed  by 
mounted  attendants,  were  slithering  down  the  snowy 
side  of  the  knoll,  were  cantering  across  the  valley 
toward  Ornes. 

High  above  them  towered  the  dark  Bois  de  la 
Chaume  as  they  threaded  the  debris-covered  street 
of  the  wrecked  village.  It  was  packed  with  Bran- 
denburger  infantry  waiting  to  advance.  They  fol- 
lowed the  road  southward,  at  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
toward  Bezonvaux.  Everywhere  the  infantry  stood 
thick,  waiting.  The  cannonade  mounted  to  a  fright- 
ful intensity,  appalling  even  the  ears  now  habituated 
to  it,  bewildering  the  senses,  troubling  the  sight. 

French  shells  came  whining,  screaming,  rushing, 
to  burst  with  loud  crashes  in  the  woodland  rising  on 
their  right  hand,  on  the  road  and  in  the  fields  through 
which  the  infantry  passed.  Domes  of  dark  smoke 
leaped  upward  from  the  earth,  preceding  the  stun- 
ning, metallic  detonation.  White  shrapnel  puffs  clus- 
tered thickly  above  the  trees. 

Bezonvaux  was  a  ruin.  They  turned  off  from  it 
to  the  right,  up  a  rough  track  that  climbed  into  the 
woods.  The  snow  on  the  track  had  been  trampled 
into  a  dirty  slush.  All  about  them  lay  bodies,  grey 
and  blue ;  weapons  pell-mell  as  they  had  fallen  from 


184  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

suddenly  opened  grasps.  Their  horses  shuddered, 
whinnied,  jerked  nervous  ears,  moved  disconcert- 
ingly sidewise  from  red  stains  soaking  deep  into  the 
snow. 

Just  under  the  edge  of  the  plateau  the  neutral 
stopped,  dismounted,  threw  his  reins  to  an  orderly. 
The  Oherst  followed  his  example.  His  face  was 
blotchy  white;  he  trembled  in  every  limb. 

"We  shall  see  nothing,  Excellenz — absolutely 
nothing,"  he  asseverated  appealingly. 

"We  can  at  least  try,"  replied  his  guest.  "Some- 
thing is  happening  over  there." 

Above  them,  some  distance  ahead,  was  a  tremen- 
dous uproar,  a  chaos  of  violent  thudding  slams,  split- 
ting crashes,  a  faint  troublous  murmur  of  human 
voices.  Behind  them,  up  the  rough  track,  a  column 
of  infantry  was  advancing,  overtaking  them.  They 
ascended  with  a  steady  progress,  splashing  through 
the  slush;  officers  waving  swords,  shouting;  rank 
upon  rank  of  tense  faces  that  had  lost  their  human- 
ity in  the  tremulous  brute ;  glazed  staring  eyes  under 
the  spiked  helmets;  singing,  singing  like  drugged 
doomed  gladiators  marching  to  the  arena.  They 
passed  upward. 

The  neutral,  to  whom  his  conductor  had  nerve- 
lessly surrendered  the  initiative,  led  the  way.  They 
left  their  horses  behind  them,  struck  off  at  a  tangent 
on  the  right,  through  the  woods,  climbing  always. 
They  emerged  upon  the  plateau,  in  a  clearing. 
Across  the  open  space,  from  a  whelm  of  smoke  and 


NACH  VERDUN!  185 

noise  in  the  distance,  groups  of  grey  men  were  run- 
ning swiftly  toward  them,  shouting  inarticulately. 
Along  the  edge  of  the  woods  was  a  line  of  pickets. 
Their  weapons  rose  to  the  shoulder.  Sternly  every 
fugitive  but  those  wounded  was  driven  again  into  the 
fight.  Those  who  hesitated,  screaming  under  the 
menace  of  the  rifle,  dropped,  shot. 

The  neutral  hurried  along  the  verge  of  the  wood, 
scanning  every  tall  tree  carefully,  expectantly.  **Ah !'' 
He  had  found  what  he  sought.  Against  the  green 
bark  of  a  lofty  beech  dangled  a  rope  ladder.  It  was 
an  abandoned  French  artillery  observation  post.  He 
scrambled  up  the  ladder,  followed  by  the  trembling, 
shivering  Oherst.  High  up  among  the  topmost 
branches  was  a  little  platform. 

The  neutral  settled  himself,  adjusted  his  binocu- 
lar, pushed  aside  the  twigs.  He  looked  out  over  an 
undulating  terrain,  dark  with  woods  that  ceased  rag- 
gedly in  deep  indentations  short  of  a  bare  hogback 
which  gathered  itself  into  a  hump.  That  bare 
ground  was  smothered  in  a  turmoil  of  smoke  that 
fumed  to  the  grey  sky,  far  to  right  and  left.  But 
through  it,  in  chance  rifts,  his  glasses  revealed  a 
dark  mass  upon  the  highest  point.  A  reek  of  white 
smoke  drifted  away  from  it,  as  from  burning  build- 
ings, mingling  with  the  darker  clouds  of  incessant 
explosions.  He  had  a  glimpse  of  a  rounded  cupola. 
It  was  DouaumontI 

The  snow  on  the  open  space  between  the  fort  and 
the  woods  was  grey.    It  was  moving  with  crawling 


186  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

life,  like  the  festering  of  a  stagnant  pool.  Over  it 
burst  occasional  puffs  of  shrapnel. 

"Ah  I"  The  cry  was  involuntary  from  both  the 
watching  men. 

From  the  woods  emerged  masses  of  running  tiny 
grey  figures — running,  running  toward  the  fort.  The 
open  space  was  covered  with  them.  A  moment  of 
tense  expectation,  when  the  heart  seemed  to  stop — 
and  then,  as  by  a  terrible  magic,  great  fountains  of 
dark  smoke  and  darker  objects  leaped  up  among 
those  running  figures;  countless  explosions. 

A  canopy  of  vicious  little  shrapnel  bursts  in  thou- 
sands spread  itself  over  them.  Under  it  men 
sprawled  in  great  patches,  seemed  to  be  fighting  the 
air  ere  they  tumbled  and  fell.  A  horrid  screaming 
came  faint  through  the  uproar.  More  masses  rushed 
out,  were  beaten  down.  There  was  a  running  to 
and  fro  of  men  bewildered — a  headlong  flight. 

The  storm  of  fire  did  not  cease.  It  rolled  over  the 
plateau  toward  the  woods,  remorselessly  following 
the  fugitives.  Louder  and  louder,  nearer  and  nearer, 
the  crashes,  the  fountains,  the  puffs — the  great  min- 
gled reek  of  the  inferno — rolled  toward  the  two  men 
in  the  observation  post.  The  Oberst  clutched  the 
neutral's  arm. 

*'Excellenzf"  he  shouted  stammeringly.  "We 
must  go  I  I  insist  I  I  have  superior  authority — writ- 
ten authority — my  discretion — I  insist!"  he  almost 
screamed.     His  hand  groped  for  a  scrap  of  paper, 


NACH  VERDUN!  187 

which  he  waved.  "Arrest!*'  he  cried  like  a  maniac. 
"Arrest  if  you  do  not  come  I" 

The  storm  of  French  shells  was  a  very  near  men- 
ace. The  neutral  acquiesced  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders.    Nimbly  they  descended  the  ladder. 

On  the  ground  they  found  themselves  among  a 
swarm  of  slightly  wounded,  terror-stricken  men. 
One  of  them,  a  tall,  bearded  Brandenburger,  his 
clothes  torn  to  rags,  was  shrieking  and  laughing  in  a 
manner  horrible  to  hear.  His  comrades  drew  away 
from  him  as  he  clutched  at  them.    He  was  insane. 

"Only  I  am  left!'*  he  cried.  "Only  I!  They  are 
all  dead — dead — out  there.  They  were  meant  to 
be  dead.  They  were  dead  men  before  we  attacked — 
all  dead  men,  running  on ;  I  could  see  it  in  their  faces 
— only  I  was  alive !  And  now  they  are  still  crawling 
— crawling — dead  men!"  His  tone  emphasised  the 
horror  of  his  words,  struck  a  chill.  A  sentry  low- 
ered his  rifle  irresolutely. 

The  maniac  turned,  waved  a  hand  to  the  west- 
ward. The  sun,  on  the  point  of  setting,  showed  it- 
self in  a  rift  of  the  threatening  snowclouds ;  sank,  a 
great  ball  of  glowing  fire,  over  the  rim  of  the 
plateau.  Its  last  rays  were  lurid  on  the  face  of  the 
madman  as  he  stood,  arms  outstretched,  his  eyes 
flaming,  his  tangled  beard  falling  upon  his  rags,  like 
some  antique  prophet  of  the  wilderness. 

"Woel  Woe  I"  he  shrieked.  ''Nach  Verdun! 
Nach  Ferdun  —  Ferdunkelun^r  —  *To  Verdun! 
After  Verdun — Eclipse."  He  finished  in  a  scream  of 


188  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

maniac  laughter,  glorying  in  the  crazy  assonance  of 
the  words.    **Nach  Verdun — Verdunkelungr* 

The  neutral  and  the  Oherst  hurried  through  the 
woods  to  their  horses. 

A  rapid  ride,  with  the  German  always  in  front, 
and  once  more  they  ascended  the  Twin  of  Ornes. 
As  they  arrived  at  the  summit  they  found  themselves 
among  wildly  cheering  men. 

*'Douaumont !    Douaumont  is  taken !" 

Far  away  to  the  south-southwest  rocket  after 
rocket  shot  up  into  the  darkening  sky.  Already  the 
great  news  had  gone — electrically — to  Berlin. 

The  crowd  of  dignitaries  descended  the  steep  path 
in  the  gloom  to  where  the  motor  cars  were  ranked  in 
waiting.  Along  the  road  passed  streams  of  wounded 
who  could  walk,  phantoms  half  distinguished  in  the 
dim  light.  Joyous  were  the  voices  of  the  War  Lords. 
One,  in  a  familiar  tone,  chanted : 

''Nach  Verdun!  Nach  Verdun — Paris T 

Out  of  the  darkness  came  a  screamed  reply,  a 
burst  of  insane  laughter: 

*'Nach  Verdun — Verdunkelung!  Nach  Verdun — 
V  erdunkelung  !'* 

It  was  the  voice  of  the  crazed  Brandenburger. 
There  was  a  scuffle — ^the  sound  of  a  man  hurried 
away,  resisting. 

All  through  that  dark  journey,  as  the  car  bumped 
and  lurched  over  the  atrocious  roads  the  words  beat 
in  a  refrain  through  the  mind  of  the  neutral.  *'Nach 
Verdun — Verdunkelung!'*    He  wondered.    Eclipse? 


NACH  VERDUN!  189 

Was  it  the  sun  of  Germany  that  set  on  the  French 
position?    The  Oherst  was  loquaciously  cheerful. 

That  night,  in  the  great  map-hung  apartment,  the 
iWar  Lords  received  the  news  that  their  farther  ad- 
vance was  barred. 

Next  morning  a  furious  counterattack  surrounded 
a  handful  of  defenders  in  the  fort  for  which  they 
had  paid  so  much.  The  French  reenforcements  had 
arrived. 


VII 

THE  CONQUERORS 

PARIS  I  Paris  Is  taken  I 
The  crowd  of  citizens  lining  the  pavement 
of  the  main  street  of  the  little  German  town  turned 
with  a  buzz  of  excited  voices  to  the  bareheaded 
shopkeeper  who  had  just  dashed  out  with  the  news. 
A  babel  of  questions  arose,  conflicting  ejaculations, 
women's  tones  shrill  above  the  masculine  bass. 

'Wtef  Is  It  official?"  "Are  the  papers  in?" 
**Ach,  kolossal — kolossalF'  "Six  weeks!  Russia, 
England,  Belgium  and  France  defeated!  Brussels 
taken,  and  now  Paris!"    "Where  did  you  hear  it?" 

"The  Justlzrat  Kramer's  servant  has  just  told 
me!"  answered  the  shopkeeper,  full  of  Importance 
as  he  looked  round  the  ring  of  eager  faces  which 
surrounded  him.  "He  should  know,  for  his  son  is 
with  the  Kronprlnz's  army — doubtless  he  has  had  a 
letter."  The  shopkeeper  was  a  member  of  the  town 
council  and  phrased  his  thoughts  with  some  preten- 
sions as  a  public  speaker.  "These  doctors  find  many 
ways  of  sending  back  news.  Ach,  Gott  sei  Dank 
that  I  persuaded  them  to  keep  the  flags  out!" 

"The  Justlzrat  Kramer!      There  he  is,   docht 
190 


THE  CONQUERORS  191 

With  Herr  Hartmann  and  Fraulein  Minna.     Ask 
him  if  the  news  is  true,  some  one!'* 

The  group  turned  their  heads  to  where,  just  be- 
hind the  rank  of  people  lining  the  curb,  a  tall,  intel- 
lectual-looking old  man  in  a  tight-fitting  frock  coat 
and  silk  hat  stood  in  conversation  with  a  well- 
dressed  and  handsome  young  woman.  There  was 
an  aloofness,  an  austerity  in  his  manner — an 
obvious  disdain  for  the  crowd — ^that  held  in 
respect  those  eagerly  curious  citizens  who  now 
stood  contemplating  him.  The  Justizrat  Kramer 
was  more  than  the  chief  local  lawyer:  he  was  the 
oracle,  the  intellectual  aristocrat  of  the  town.  His 
dry  tone,  his  contemptuously  critical  eye,  were  ter- 
rors the  average  citizen  stood  in  awe  of. 

"Better  not  I"  said  one,  who  for  an  instant  had 
betrayed  an  irresolution  by  which  his  companions 
had  endeavoured  to  profit.  "Not  now.  The  Herr 
Justizrat  is  telling  the  events  to  his  son's  betrothed. 
It  would  not  be  polite  to  interrupt  him.  Besides,  the 
morning  paper  will  be  in  presently." 

"Paris  taken!"  cried  another.  "Then  perhaps 
the  Reserve  Battalion  will  not  march  off  after  all, 
this  morning  I    The  war  is  over  I" 

^  **Doch  nichtf*  replied  the  man  at  his  elbow  sen- 
tentiously.    "We  have  still  to  capture  London!" 

"How  long?  Two  months  I  The  end  of  the 
year?     19 15,  perhaps  1" 

'^Jch,  neinl    So  long  as  1915  can  it  not  last  I" 


192  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

said  a  woman.  "Our  husbands  and  sons  will  all  be 
killed  I" 

"The  losses  are  frightful,"  agreed  another.  "So 
they  say.  Twenty  at  least  of  the  town  will  never 
come  back.  Nein,  so  long  can  it  not  last !" 

"Look  I"  cried  a  voice.  "Here  come  the  Polizei! 
The  battalion  is  starting." 

From  both  sides  of  the  street,  which,  clear  of 
traffic,  stretched  under  its  decoration  of  flags  and 
evergreens  from  the  squat,  antiquated  fort  on  the 
elevation  at  one  end  of  it  to  the  tall,  smokeless  chim- 
neys of  the  Hartmanns-Fabrik  which  closed  the  view 
at  the  other,  long  lines  of  eager  faces  craned  out  to 
watch  the  group  of  mounted  policemen  trotting  down 
toward  the  railway  station. 

"The  prisoners  will  be  coming  through,  at  any 
rate  I"  said  a  man,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  mid- 
September  sun  as  he  peered  down  the  thoroughfare 
after  the  clattering  patrol.  "Cursed  Frenchmen  I 
The  faces  they'll  make  when  we  shout  the  news  at 
them!" 

**Jawohl!  The  camp  is  all  ready  for  them — 
plenty  of  barbed  wire,  but  not  much  else!"  said  an- 
other with  a  laugh.  "Their  train  must  be  almost 
due — ^yes,  look,  there  is  the  Herr  Major  von  Top- 
litz,  the  new  commandant  of  the  fort  who  will  be  in 
charge  of  them  I  Talking  to  the  Herr  Justizrat 
there  I  He  is  evidently  going  down  to  the  station  to 
meet  the  prisoners." 

The  crowd  turned  once  more  in  the  direction  of 


THE  CONQUERORS  193 

the  Justizrat.  The  little  group  had  now  been 
joined  by  an  elderly  officer,  spruce  in  a  new  field- 
grey  uniform,  sword  dangling.  He  was  screwing 
his  monocle  into  his  eye  and  smiling  under  his  white 
moustache  while  he  exchanged  a  remark  with  the 
rotund  proprietor  of  the  factory  at  the  end  of  the 
street,  and  his  handsome  daughter.  It  was  evident 
from  the  stiff  precision  of  his  gestures  that  he  had 
just  been  introduced. 

From  somewhere  in  the  direction  of  the  squat 
brown  fort  came  the  faint  notes  of  a  distant  mili- 
tary band.  A  stir  ran  through  the  people,  who  were 
now  repeating  to  each  other  all  along  the  street: 
"Paris  taken  I  Paris  is  taken!"  as  they  closed  up 
more  densely  to  the  curb  to  get  a  better  view. 

A  narrow-browed,  full-faced,  corpulent  little 
tradesman,  apron  about  his  waist,  spectacles  on  his 
nose,  stepped  out  into  the  empty  street  and  gazed 
myopically  at  the  vista  of  flags  which  transformed 
its  familiar  drab  dulness  into  an  avenue  of  triumph. 

'"5  ist  dock  schdnf*  he  repeated  to  himself.  In 
his  tone  was  the  naive  awe  of  a  Sancho  Panza  con- 
templating in  his  secret  moments  his  incredible  splen- 
dour.    *'Ach,  we  Germans!" 

He  dodged  back  with  a  cry  of  alarm  as  a  mounted 
policeman,  disdaining  to  swerve  his  horse,  nearly 
rode  him  down. 

A  little  farther  down  the  street  Major  von  Top- 
litz  was  still  in  conversation  with  the  little  group. 
He  was  discussing  strategy  with  the  Justizrat,  and 


194  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  deep  blue  eyes  of  the  girl  were  fixed  attentively 
on  the  two  men,  colour  high  on  the  cheeks  under  her 
massed  fair  hair. 

*^Ja,  Herr  Kramer!  So  we  made  war  in  Seventy 
with  the  Archduke  Charles;  so  now — time-table!" 
He  spoke  in  a  clipped  military  fashion  which  ac- 
corded well  with  the  fragmentary  nature  of  his  men- 
tal processes.  "To-day — hurl  ourselves  across  the 
frontier;  to-morrow — ^take  Brussels;  day  after — 
Verdun;  day  after  that — Paris!  Date  for  Paris  se- 
cret— can't  tell  you — in  time-table — ^punctually  to  the 
hour — march  down  Champs  Elysees.  Tell  you  this, 
lieher  Herr:  our  Kaiser  has  left  Berlin — triumphal 
entry!" 

At  that  moment  the  rotund  little  factory-proprie- 
tor caught  the  rumour  being  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth  among  the  crowd.  He  questioned  the  near- 
est man,  shouted  an  inarticulate  cry. 

"Paris!"  he  yelled,  waving  his  hat.  "Paris  is 
taken!" 

"5o/'  observed  the  Major,  drawing  himself  up 
with  dignity.  "What  did  I  tell  you,  Herr  Justizrat? 
Ach,  those  cursed  Social  Democrats!  See,  there  is 
some  use  in  our  German  army,  after  all — ntcht  wahr, 
Herr  Hartmannf  No  more  trouble  in  your  fac- 
tory! Brussels — Paris!  Moment  of  time-table!" 
He  twisted  his  white  moustache  with  a  fatuous  com- 
placency, his  bleary  old  eyes  looking  as  fierce  as  he 
could  make  them,  self-consciously  personifying  the 
victorious  German  army. 


THE  CONQUERORS  195 

"It  may  well  be  so,"  said  the  Justizrat.  "I  had  a 
letter  from  Otto  this  morning.  He  expected  to  be 
in  Paris  in  two  days.  What  a  victory!  What  a 
victory!"  His  keen  old  face  was  lighted  up  as  by 
a  personal  triumph.  "My  friends,  this  is  the  mo- 
ment for  which  I  have  longed  all  my  life,  the  mo- 
ment for  which  I  have  worked — I  also,  Herr  Ma- 
jor" (the  lawyer  had  received  his  distinction  of 
"Rat"  in  recognition  of  some  Pan-German  pamphlets 
he  had  written),  "inculcating  our  German  virtues, 
preaching  our  right  to  a  place  in  the  sun!  This  is 
*the  great  time,'  the  time  when  our  German  Kultur 
triumphantly  reveals  its  superiority  in  the  capitals 
of  the  effete  civilisation  we  shall  replace !  Brussels ! 
Paris!    London  next!" 

"You  must  write  to  Otto,  Minna,"  said  the  fac- 
tory-proprietor pompously  to  his  daughter,  "and  tell 
him  how  proud  you  are  of  him." 

"Proud?"  said  the  girl,  a  sudden,  not-to-be- 
repressed  bitterness  in  her  tone.  She  flushed  at  its 
escape.  ^'He  is  not  fighting !  He  is  just  a  doctor — 
he  does  not  thrill  with  glory  at  our  victories.  He 
thinks  only  of  new  scientific  ways  to  bind  up  wounds. 
His  letters  are  full  of  it."  She  hesitated,  her  bosom 
heaving;  then  in  a  flash  of  vicious  contempt,  she 
added:  "I  have  written  to  ask  him  how  many 
Frenchmen  he  has  killed!" 

The  three  men  stared  at  her,  startled  by  this  out- 
burst. 

"Minna!"  cried  her  father,  glancing  nervously  at 


196  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  Justizrat.  Otto  Kramer  was  a  good  match — 
one  who  would  help  the  frequently  perilous  fortunes 
of  the  Hartmanns-Fabrik.  "But  you  love  Otto! 
You  know  it  well — ^you  know  it  well!"  The  eyes  in 
the  little  rotund  face  were  wide  with  anxiety.  "Did 
you  not  cry  all  night  when  he  went  away?"  Noth- 
ing was  sacred  to  Herr  Hartmann  when  his  mate- 
rial interests  were  at  stake. 

The  girl  flushed  up  again  at  a  snicker  in  the  crowd 
behind  her. 

"It  is  because — ^because  Otto  is  to  be  my  husband 
that  I  feel  ashamed,  bitterly  ashamed,  he  is  not  a 

soldier.      My — my  husband Oh,"  she  broke 

off,  "when  I  used  to  listen  to  you  talking  of  the  com- 
ing war,  Father-in-law,  I  used  to  think  of  Otto — I 
used  to  see  him  with  a  shining  sword,  conquering 
the  enemies  of  our  Fatherland — winning  the  victory 
— alone,  almost — coming  back  decorated,  a  hero, 
famous.  And  now,  in  this  great  time,  when  all  the 
world  is  winning  glory,  when  every  one  is  talking 
of  the  bravery  of  their  sons  and  husbands,  he — 
he "  She  stopped,  very  near  tears.  Then  draw- 
ing herself  up  with  a  deep  breath,  her  eyes  flashing 
through  their  moisture,  she  cried:  "Oh,  if  only  I 
were  a  man  I"   Her  hand  seemed  to  clutch  a  weapon. 

The  Justizrat  sprang  forward :  his  old  ascetic  face 
lighted  up,  and  he  laid  his  bony  hand  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"Ah,  there  speaks  the  true  German  woman!"  he 
cried.     "The  woman  of  Tacitus — of  the  Niebelun- 


THE  CONQUERORS  19T 

genlied  I  The  wife  and  mother  of  heroes  I  You  are 
right,  Minna,  our  Kultur  can  only  grow  from  seed 
sown  among  the  ruins.  The  duty  of  a  German  to- 
day is  to  inflict  wounds — not  to  heal  them  I  Ach! 
Hartmann," — he  turned  to  the  vulgar  little  manu- 
facturer,— "what  a  grandson  I  shall  havel" 

Hartmann  grinned — relieved  that  there  was  no 
hint  of  breaking  the  marriage. 

At  that  moment  an  irruption  of  little  boys,  bun- 
dles of  newspapers  in  their  arms,  shouting  inarticu- 
lately at  the  top  of  their  voices,  dashed  along  the 
pavement  behind  the  backs  of  the  crowd.  Where 
they  passed,  a  sudden  turmoil,  papers  waved  on  high, 
fresh  cries.  The  Major  snatched  a  copy  from  an 
urchin  who  continued  to  yell  with  all  his  lungs  while 
he  waited  for  the  nickel. 

^'SiegT  cried  the  Major,  glancing  at  the  fat 
Gothic  headlines.  "Yet  another  victory  I  Sieg! 
Siegr 

"Where  is  it?'*  shouted  the  Justizrat,  above  the 
clamour  of  voices  which  arose  all  around  them. 
"France?  Paris?"  He  grabbed  at  a  paper  for  him- 
self. "Ah— Russia!"  He  scanned  the  thickened 
type  of  the  communique.  "Not  a  word  about  France 
— the  communique  is  late,  is  dated  the  9th  of  Sep- 
tember— to-day  is  the  i  ith.  They  are  waiting  to  be 
able  to  announce  the  final  victory." 

The  yelling  newspaper-boys  pushed  their  ways 
through  the  throng.  In  the  midst  of  the  uproar  came 
the  blare  and  thud  of  a  military  band  approaching 


198  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

from  the  direction  of  the  fort.  The  crashing  rhythm 
^f  a  lively  tune  mingled  with  the  excited  shouts  of 
the  crowd. 

*The  battalion!"  cried  the  Major.  "Must  go — 
railway-station — see  them  off — ^prisoners  arriving 
too.  Wounded — don*t  know  what  I  shall  do  with 
them — no  doctors.  Come  to  supper  at  the  fort  to- 
night— bring  your  wives.  You'll  come,  Herr 
Kramer?  You,  Herr  Hartmann?  Bring  the  Frau- 
lein — celebrate  the  victory,  ha  I  Good-bye — auf  WiC' 
derseh^nr  He  saluted  the  young  woman  with  a 
click  of  heels  and  strode  off  through  the  crowd, 
which  made  way  for  him  respectfully. 

The  blare  of  the  band  Increased.  They  could  dis- 
tinguish the  tune — ^^Ptippchen,  du  hist  mein  Augen- 

schatz!    Piippchen,  du  hist ''    A  roar  of  cheers 

drowned  it.  The  spectators  crowded  up  to  the  edge 
of  the  pavement,  craned  their  necks  to  see  into  the 
still  empty  street.  They  could  hear  the  voices  of  the 
soldiers  singing  as  they  marched  toward  them. 

The  band  ceased  for  a  moment;  then  as  its  lead- 
ing ranks  passed  with  a  tap  of  drum,  a  dazzle  of 
brass  Instruments  In  the  sunshine,  it  burst  out  into 
the  stirring  strains  which  all  Germany  had  been 
shouting  for  the  past  six  weeks : 

Deutschland,  Deutschland  iiber  A  lies — iiber  A  lies  in  der 

Welt! 
Wenn  es  stets  zu  Schutz  und  Trutze  briiderlich  zusammen- 

halt. 


THE  CONQUERORS  199 

Fon  der  Maas  bis  on  die  Memel,  von  der  Etsch  bis  on  den 

Belt 
Deutschland,  Deutschland  iiber  A  lies — iiber  A  lies  in  der 

Welti 

They  passed,  rank  after  rank  in  their  field-grey 
uniforms,  flowers  in  the  muzzles  of  their  rifles  at 
the  slope,  flowers  wreathed  about  their  spiked  hel- 
mets, flowers  flung  into  the  air  about  them,  falling 
like  rain.  They  passed,  sturdy  German  figures,  pack 
high  on  the  back,  singing  as  with  an  antique  religious 
fervour  exactly  in  time  and  tune,  their  faces  red  with 
pride  and  pleasure,  faces  of  ploughmen,  of  factory- 
hands,  of  clerks,  of  petty  tradesmen,  of  all  the  drudg- 
ing occupations  that  had  ceased,  their  paltry  civilisa- 
tion forgotten,  their  eyes  bright  in  a  triumph  of 
primitive  instincts  sanctified  by  the  clamour  of  the 
crowd.  They  passed,  yesterday  the  drab  workers 
of  a  narrow  horizon,  to-day  the  panoplied  foemen — 
spectacles  from  the  unremembered  desk  still  on  the 
eyes  that  would  so  soon  gaze  at  Death  in  a  strange 
landscape. 

They  passed,  imposing  in  their  ordered  strength, 
and  with  them  passed  the  wild  romance  of  war,  the 
romance  of  lives  at  plenitude  that  have  no  sure  con- 
tinuance. They  passed  endlessly,  rank  after  rank 
of  faces  that  lost  their  individuality  in  one  common 
flushed  brutishness  where  thought  was  quelled,  flow- 
er-crowned, purposeful,  like  the  exodus  of  Gothic 
warriors  setting  out  amid  tribal  cries  to  the  sack  of 
a  doomed  epoch. 


200  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  splendid  choral,  rhythmic  to  the  tramp, 
roared  up  from  the  dense  ranks  streaming  under  the 
festooned  flags  that  seemed  to  flutter  in  the  waves 
of  sound.  *'Deutschlandy  Deutschland  uber  Alles — 
iiher  Alles  in  der  WeltF'  The  crowd  caught  it  up, 
roared  it  back  at  them :  ** Deutschland,  Deutschland 
uber  Alles r^  mingled  with  shouts  of  uncontrollable 
enthusiasm,  the  certainty  of  victory,  shrill  female 
voices  high  above  the  rest. 

^^Hochl  hochf  Hurra/  Sieg!  Sieg!  Paris!  Paris 
genommen!  Noch  ein  Sieg!  Hurra!^^  And  then 
again  the  dominating  melody  of  the  intoxicating 
chant,  swallowing  up  all  other  sounds: 

Deutschland,  Deutschland  Uber  Alles — iiber  Alles   in   der 
Welt! 

The  girl  stood  gazing  at  the  steadily  flowing 
ranks,  at  the  endlessly  passing  soldier-faces,  so  mas- 
culine, so  indescribably  thrilling  under  their  spiked 
helmets.  Voicelessly  she  followed  the  lilt  and  beat, 
the  uplifting  surge  of  the  battle-song  of  her  race; 
voicelessly,  but  with  parted  lips,  she  echoed  the  fare- 
well cries,  the  shouts  of  triumph,  the  roar  of  cheers 
on  cheers  with  which  her  countrymen  sped  their 
heroes  on  to  certain  conquest.  She  stood  fixed, 
oddly  chilled,  tears  springing  to  her  eyes  in  the  in- 
tensity of  an  emotion  that  was  suddenly  poignant. 
She  saw  the  heroes  passing,  rifle  on  the  shoulder — 
passing,  passing  to  some  grand  unimaginable  climax 
of  effort,  to  a  transcendent  apotheosis  far  away- — 


THE  CONQUERORS  Wl 

and  then  she  saw  Otto,  Otto  in  his  white  surgeon's 
dress,  in  a  hushed  hospital  ward,  his  calm,  keen  face 
bent  over  a  bed.    She  had  often  seen  him  so. 

"Victory!  Victory!"  shouted  the  crowd.  All  that 
was  not  part,  active  combatant  part,  in  this  mighty 
conflict  where  Germany — her  Germany — wrestled 
against  a  world  in  arms,  seemed  despicably  mean, 
unworthy  of  a  man's  strength.  A  burning  resent- 
ment filled  her,  mingled  with  the  warrior  impulse 
of  remote  ancestors  buried  with  their  helm  and 
spear.  The  volcanic  hysteria  which  underlies  the 
surface  phlegm  of  the  Teutonic  temperament  surged 
uppermost.    She  uttered  a  wild,  inarticulate  cry. 

The  Justizrat  turned  to  her,  thinking  she  was  ill. 
She  clutched  his  arm. 

"Oh,  if  only  I  were  a  man!"  she  said,  her  eyes 
meeting  the  flame  in  his.  "If  only  I  could  do  some- 
thing splendid — heroic — for  the  Fatherland !  Some- 
thing that  would  be  Otto's  part  and  mine  together! 
Achr  She  broke  into  sobs  against  the  old  man's 
breast. 

"You  will,  Schdtzchen,  you  will,"  said  the  old 
lawyer,  soothing  her.  "You  will  be  the  mother  of 
heroes  who  will  conquer  Asia  in  the  next  genera- 
tion, as  those  gallant  lads  are  conquering  Europe  in 
this.  Our  German  Kultur  is  born  of  such  women  as 
you — for  you  incarnate  the  irresistible  will  to  power, 
the  recognition  of  the  moral  majesty  of  war,  which  is 
our  Kultur  itself.  Ah,  Schdtzchen,''  he  murmured, 
'^promise  me — ^promise  me  that  you  will  marry  Otto ! 


202  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

My  grandsons  will  be  of  the  race  of  world-con- 
querors I" 

She  looked  up. 

"Conquerors !"  she  cried.  "Oh,  if  I  were  a  man, 
I  could  be  a  conqueror — ^but/'  she  smiled,  with  a 
shake  of  the  head,  "I  am  only  a  woman,  Schweiger' 
vaterJ* 

The  last  of  the  troops  had  gone.  Her  father 
turned  to  her,  still  excited. 

"Come,  Minna,*'  he  cried,  "let  us  see  them  off 
at  the  railway  station!" 

He  stepped  out  with  an  absurd  little  strutting  imi- 
tation of  a  martial  step.  His  daughter  and  the 
Justizrat  followed  him.  They  had  not  gone  far 
through  the  swirling  eddies  of  the  dispersing  crowd 
when  there  was  again  a  clamour  far  ahead  In  the 
mass  of  people,  a  shout  that  was  no  longer  the  paean 
of  enthusiasm  which  had  roared  up  from  the  route 
of  the  marching  soldiers,  but  a  shout  that  checks  the 
heart,  the  ugly  shout  of  a  mob  perceiving  its  prey. 
A  quick  commotion  among  the  multitude  followed, 
a  rush  to  line  the  curb  once  more.  The  word  was 
passed  along:    "The  prisoners!    They  are  coming!" 

Borne  off  their  feet  in  the  scurry  of  eager  sight- 
seers, Minna  and  her  two  companions  found  them- 
selves pushed  out  into  the  street.  Into  the  front  row 
of  spectators  that  now  squeezed  back  before  the 
menace  of  the  sidling,  back-stepping  horses  of  the 
police. 

"The  prisoners!"    The  cry  was  repeated,  domi- 


THE  CONQUERORS  203 

nant,  an  explanation,  over  the  confused,  vaguely 
vengeful  murmur  of  the  mob  that  had  lost  Its  Indi- 
vidual sensibilities  in  the  primitive  Instinct  of  the 
pack.  It  massed  itself  in  a  blind,  collective  hostility. 
The  cynical  authorities  who,  far  away,  had  arranged 
— with  the  sureness  of  long  practice  In  playing  upon 
the  passions  of  the  multitude — ^that  the  two  columns 
should  pass  In  dramatic  contrast,  would  have  been 
well  pleased  with  the  success  of  their  stage-manage- 
ment. 

Minna  was  jostled  by  a  big  red-faced  peasant  who 
elbowed  his  way  to  the  front  and  stood,  with  snarled 
upper-lip  over  discoloured  teeth,  gazing  fiercely  to- 
ward the  railway  station  whence  the  prisoners  were 
coming. 

"Cursed  Frenchmen!^'  he  cried  In  the  uncouth, 
elided  syllables  of  his  dialect.  "Only  wait — I'll  tear 
the  heart  out  of  you  I"  He  gripped  with  his  bony 
hand  In  the  air  before  his  eyes.  Then  turning  to 
his  neighbour  he  asked  In  a  tone  of  naTve  simplicity: 
"Are  they  white,  these  Frenchmen?" 

The  girl  shrank  from  the  Ignorant  brutality  of 
this  old  savage  who  was  of  her  race,  speaking  a  lan- 
guage that  was,  though  deformed,  her  own.  She  felt 
bewildered,  buffeted,  stunned  by  the  surge  of  malev- 
olent passion  that  welled,  hot-breathed,  from  the 
crowd.  Meek  shopkeepers,  docile  workpeople, 
women  whose  familiar  talk  was  only  of  children  and 
clothes — they  were  all  transformed,  maglcked  Into 
sinister  beings,  where  the  soul  of  humanity  was  ab- 


g04  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

sent  from  its  image.  This  crowd-mind  that  had  no 
thought  and  but  one  single  impulse,  appalled  her 
with  its  reckless  ferocity.  She  glanced  about  her 
for  an  avenue  of  escape.  Her  father  was  laughing 
excitedly,  senselessly.  The  Justizrat  stood  pale  and 
grim,  his  lips  tight,  his  eyes  flaming. 

The  clamour  close  at  hand  leaped  to  the  howl  of 
hatred  that  swept  along  the  street  toward  her.  They 
were  coming !  She  forgot  all  in  an  impulse  of  curios- 
ity. The  bulk  of  a  prancing  horse,  hindquarters 
close,  dangerous,  obtruded  itself  for  an  instant. 
Then  she  saw  the  prim  figure  of  the  old  Major  von 
Toplitz,  monocle  in  his  eye,  mouth  stern  under  the 
white  moustache,  marching  with  stiff,  precise  step 
down  the  centre  of  the  roadway,  as  indifferent  to  the 
shouts  of  the  crowd  as  though  he  were  solitary  on  a 
parade-ground.  Behind  him  came  a  squad  of  Land- 
Sturm — old  men  with  rugged  faces  under  the  shakoes 
of  a  bygone  day,  in  old  blue  uniforms  with  red  epau- 
lettes, antique  rifles  at  the  slope,  fixed  bayonets  glit- 
tering in  the  sun.  The  veterans  marched  with  con- 
scious pride,  in  level  ranks  and  heavy  step.  There 
was  the  sketch  of  a  cheer  as  they  passed — and  then, 
immediately,  the  howl  of  execration  burst  forth  in 
full  intensity. 

Minna  stared,  expecting  she  knew  not  what  of  re- 
pulsive, of  hate-compelling.  Behind  the  squad  of 
Landsturm  soldiers  marched  a  solitary  figure  in  tight- 
fitting  black  tunic  and  red  breeches.  As  one  looks, 
fascinated,  to  the   face  of  a  condemned,  the  girl 


THE  CONQUERORS  W5 

gazed  eagerly  at  the  countenance  of  this  lonely  man 
whose  passage  evoked  such  a  storm  of  vituperation. 
It  was  white  but  calm.  A  soft  brown  beard  lent  a 
maturity  to  the  quiet  dignity  of  the  poise  of  the 
head.  The  forehead  was  swathed  in  a  bandage,  but 
a  kepi  with  a  red  velvet  band  was  in  exact  military 
position. 

*'A  doctor,'*  she  heard  the  Justizrat  remark. 

The  prisoner  turned  his  head  indifferently  toward 
her  as  he  passed.  For  one  moment  she  met  his  eyes 
full.    They  swept  over  her. 

He  passed  out  of  sight,  was  succeeded  without 
pause  by  a  column  of  haggard  men  in  an  ill-kept 
formation  of  fours  who  stumbled  and  blundered 
along  at  a  pace  that  was  evidently  too  fast  for  them. 
The  girl  shrank  at  their  aspect.  Not  a  man  but  was 
bandaged  somewhere,  but  the  bandages  were  stained, 
clotted  and  dirty.  Their  uniforms  were  torn,  caked 
with  mud  or  grey  with  dust.  Their  eyes  looked  white 
out  of  faces  that  were  grimed  with  filth  and  drawn 
with  suffering.  They  passed,  hobbling  with  sticks, 
supporting  each  other,  swaying  like  drunken  men 
with  hands  pawing  the  air  in  front  of  them  blindly 
as  they  lurched,  gasping  with  open  mouths  in  the 
dust  of  the  street.  A  long-strung  file  of  Landsturm 
soldiers  marched  on  each  side  of  them,  shouted  harsh 
injunctions  to  keep  place  in  the  column,  shepherded 
this  mob  of  broken  men  with  the  butts  of  their  rifles 
as  a  shepherd  pushes  his  blind  flock  with  the  crook. 
And  on  either  side  of  the  street  the  crowd  of  civil- 


206  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

lans,  hardly  kept  back  by  the  mounted  police,  raved 
at  them,  shook  their  fists,  screamed  like  demons. 
A  hail  of  small  objects,  bits  of  vegetables,  garbage, 
small  stones,  fell  upon  the  miserable  hurrying 
column. 

*' Paris  kaput!  Parts  kaput!  Paris  kaputT'^ 
shrieked  the  crowd  in  monotonous  repetition.  *^ Paris 
kaput!**  It  was  as  though  they  expected  the  captives 
to  be  annihilated  with  this  announcement  of  the  final 
disaster.  Few,  only,  in  the  hurrying  stream  turned 
their  heads.  The  crowd  screamed  the  louder,  like 
red  Indians  insulting  the  prisoners  borne  to  the 
stake,  raging  to  find  some  word  that  would  pierce 
to  the  heart.  Failing,  they  surged,  in  ugly  rushes,  in 
a  rain  of  blows  from  stick  and  umbrellas,  onto  the 
column  feebly  protected  by  the  cursing,  overwhelmed 
Landsturm  veterans.  A  howl  that  was  the  howl  for 
blood  of  a  pack  in  cry  resounded  down  the  street. 

^'Useless  mouths,  useless  mouths,"  Minna  heard 
the  Justizrat  repeating  as  h^  was  pushed  toward  her 
in  an  eddy  of  the  crowd.  His  old  face  was  like 
stone. 

A  string  of  wagons  followed  the  column  on  foot. 
She  saw  that  they  were  laden  with  men  who  could 
not  move.  Grey  faces,  bandage-masked,  looked  list- 
lessly over  their  sides.  There  was  another  rush  of 
the  mob.  She  saw  men  and  women  trying  to  clamber 

^" Kaput" — a  slang  word  in  common  use  which  corresponds 
roughly  to  the  English  "done  in,"  the  French  "fichu."  Every- 
thing enemy  was  "kaput"  in  the  early  days  of  German  victories. 


THE  CONQUERORS  SOT 

onto  the  wagons,  trying  to  find  a  foothold  on  the 
spokes  of  the  slowly  revolving  wheels,  slashing  with 
sticks  at  the  helpless  passengers  within.  A  police- 
man plunged  his  horse  vainly  among  the  crowd,  amid 
a  frightful  outburst  of  cries.  She  turned  sick,  dizzy 
— reeled  fainting  into  the  arms  of  the  Justizrat — » 
felt  herself  lifted  out  of  the  throng. 

They  were  a  merry  company  seated  round  the 
supper-table  in  the  Commandant's  quarters  at  the 
fort.  The  Major,  cheeks  flushed  above  the  white 
moustache,  had  almost  ceased  his  attempts  to  re- 
place the  monocle,  less  and  less  permanent  in  its 
position  with  each  succeeding  glass.  He  sat  now 
with  the  muscles  of  his  eye  screwed, up  to  hold  it> 
unconscious  that  it  dangled  on  his  breast,  and  smiled 
stupidly  at  Minna,  who  was  seated  modestly  at  the 
extremity  of  her  side  of  the  table.  The  Justizrat  was 
attentive  to  her — but  with  a  sedulous,  impersonal 
care  she  obscurely  resented.  She  felt  she  was  being 
watched  over,  not  for  herself  but  for  her  potentiali- 
ties— like  a  stud-animal.  Her  mother,  at  the  other 
side  of  the  Justizrat,  turned  her  strongly  featured 
harsh  face  toward  the  lawyer  and  endeavoured  to 
force  his  attention  to  herself  by  continual  appeals 
to  his  judgment  on  matters  of  general  Interest.  Frau 
Hartmann  was  a  woman  of  much  force  of  character 
and  powerful  though  limited  intelligence.  She  was 
the  real  head  of  the  Hartmann  factory.  Scarcely 
concealing  her  contempt  for  her  insignificant  hus- 
band, she  habitually  talked  with  the  old  lawyer  as 


208  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

though  in  him  alone  she  had  found  her  peer.  The 
Justizrat  irritated  her  by  obstinately  retaining  his 
air  of  cool  superiority  and  reserving  his  admiration 
for  his  own  wife.  Frau  Kramer  sat  opposite,  next 
to  the  bibulously  excited  factory-proprietor.  A  meek, 
unsoured  little  woman,  she  smiled  to  see  her  idolised 
husband  paying  attentions  to  the  future  daughter-in- 
law  she  cordially  loved.  The  Major,  a  widower  since 
many  years,  made  gallant  remarks  to  her  at  inter- 
vals. She  smiled  sweetly,  only  half  comprehending 
them,  in  the  happiness  of  this  unclouded  moment. 
Was  not  her  boy  safe — ^the  war  as  good  as  won? 

"Fill  up,  Kramer!  Fill  up,  Hartmann! — Frau 
Kramer,  you  permit? — Frau  Hartmann?"  cried  the 
Major,  brandishing  the  champagne-bottle.  "Paris! 
Don't  take  Paris  every  day!  Ach,  what  a  war  I 
what  a  war!" 

^'Jawohir*  cried  the  manufacturer.  "It's  a  good 
war — a  good  war !  At  first  I  was  frightened,  I  will 
confess,  Herr  Major.  The  seas  closed  to  us — all 
our  foreign  trade  gone — so  it  looked.  But  it  was  a 
good  thing.  I  shut  down  the  factory  at  once — that 
was  my  wife's  idea,  was  it  not,  Schatz? — for  we  had 
been  overproducing  heavily.  Now  our  stocks  are 
nearly  all  worked  off  at  good  prices,  and  we  shall 
start  again  with  the  world's  markets  clamouring  for 
our  goods.  Dank  set  Gott,  the  French  and  Belgian 
competition  have  been  killed  for  years.  Most-fa- 
voured-nation terms  everywhere  and  ruinous  indem- 


THE  CONQUERORS  209 

nities  on  our  rivals,  nicht  wahr,  Herr  Kramer?  Ach, 
it  is  a  good  war — a  good,  quick  war!" 

The  Justizrat  looked  up. 

"It  is  the  end  of  the  first  phase  only,  my  friend,'*^ 
he  said.  "We  are  supreme  on  the  Continent — a 
homogeneous  Central  Empire  that  will  force  its  way 
to  the  Mediterranean  with  the  terms  of  peace,  a 
Central  Empire  that  will  dominate  Russia  in  the 
east  and  Asia  Minor  in  the  south,  but  we  have  yet  to 
win  world-power.  AchT' — he  filled  his  glass — "we 
shall  win  it.  With  all  these  resources  at  our  com- 
mand, we  shall  fling  ourselves  on  England  and  crush 
her  I  Her  colonies  will  fall  away  at  the  first  dis- 
aster. She  has  no  army;  the  war  will  be  over  be- 
fore the  half-million  men  Kitchener  has  called  for 
are  in  uniform.  She  has  a  strong  fleet,  yes — but  we 
shall  hurl  ourselves  across  the  North  Sea  despite  all 
opposition,  and  capture  London  as  we  have  captured 
Paris.  The  British  Empire  will  pass  to  us.  That  will 
be  the  end  of  this  war — the  end  for  a  generation, 
perhaps.  Then,  with  new,  with  overwhelming 
strength,  we  shall  conquer  America ;  they  will  never 
wake  up  from  the  blind  dollar-worship  until  we  are 
at  their  throats,"  he  added  contemptuously.  "They 
are  utterly  defenceless.  America,  Asia,  the  world  I" 
He  raised  his  glass.  "To  German  Kultur!  The 
Kultur  of  conquerors!    Prosit!'* 

^'Prosit F*  echoed  the  others,  only  half  understand- 
ing this  exposition  of  their  creed,  but  wholly  ap- 


^10  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

proving  Its  tendency.  Frau  Kramer  alone  com- 
mented. 

"So  long  as  Otto  comes  back  to  us !"  she  said  with 
a  sigh. 

Minna  remained  silent,  thoughtful.  She  was  proud, 
very  proud,  of  the  Fatherland.  The  shock  of  war 
had  stirred  her  emotional  nature  to  its  depths,  had 
awakened  the  full  power  of  the  unquestioning  pa- 
triotism native  to  the  German  temperament  and 
sedulously  fostered  by  every  influence,  scholastic,  lit- 
erary and  religious,  that  had  affected  her  young  life. 
She  thrilled  with  a  vivid  sense  of  the  victorious 
might  of  the  race  to  which  she  belonged.  Then  the 
thought  of  Otto  came  to  her,  linked  with  a  regret 
at  his  slight  share  in  the  military  glory  with  which 
the  country  was  intoxicated,  but  less  poignant  than 
her  bitter  outburst  of  the  morning.  She  had  wept, 
solitary  in  her  room  that  afternoon,  ashamed  of 
herself,  realising  how  deeply  she  loved  her  doctor- 
lover,  trying  to  find  a  justification  for  him  as  a  non- 
combatant.  Then  she  thought  of  the  other  doctor,  the 
lonely  prisoner  marching  at  the  head  of  that  melan- 
choly procession,  saw  his  eyes  turn  toward  her — 
sweep  over  her.  She  banished  the  thought.  It  re- 
turned, metamorphosed,  in  a  vague  vision  of  the 
wretched  prisoners,  cowering,  faint  with  their 
wounds,  behind  the  barbed  wire.  She  shuddered  at 
the  recollection  of  prolonged,  hopeless  groans  which 
had  emanated  from  a  tent  behind  the  barrier  when 
«he  was  passing  the  prispners'  camp  on  her  way  to 


THE  CONQUERORS  211 

the  fort.  In  a  sudden  revulsion  she  came  back  to 
the  light,  the  optimism,  of  this  little  feast  to  cele- 
brate her  country's  victory. 

*'Ja — Paris — first  stage  only!"  said  the  Major. 
"London  next!  Paris!  Ach!  ^S  ist  dock  prdchtigf' 
Then  suddenly  remembering:  "Haven't  seen  the 
communique  yet!  Be  in  to-night — certain."  He 
turned  to  the  soldier-servant  who  stood  like  a  statue 
behind  his  chair.    "Joseph!    Papers  in  yet?" 

**Ja,  Herr  Major — glauhe  wohl/* 

"Fetch  one!" 

The  servant  went  out. 

"Fill  up,  meine  HerrenT  cried  the  Major.  "Full 
glasses — finest  communique  of  the  war — drink  to  it, 
eh!"    The  wine  foamed  up  in  the  glasses. 

The  servant  returned,  laid  a  folded  newspaper 
before  his  master.  The  Major  opened  it,  scanned  it 
with  puzzled  brows,  felt  for  the  monocle  that  had 
once  more  slipped  from  his  eye — scrutinised  it  anew. 

The  Justizrat  tapped  Impatiently  on  the  table. 

"The  news,  Herr  Major— the  news !   Let  us  have 

itr 

The  Major  shook  his  head  with  a  bewildered  ex- 
pression and  threw  the  newspaper  across  to  the 
lawyer.     ''Mein  GottF'  was  all  he  could  utter. 

The  Justizrat  snatched  at  the  sheet — stared  at  It, 
startled,  as  he  read  the  emphatically  thickened  type 
of  the  communique. 

"Read  It,  Kramer!"  cried  Hartmann  from  the 
other  side  of  the  table.    "What  the  devil '* 


212  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  Justizrat  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  *  Communique  of  the  1 0th  September  *  "  he  read. 
"  *The  portions  of  the  army  which  had  pressed  in 
the  pursuit  as  far  as  and  across  the  Marne  east  of 
Paris  have  been  attacked  from  Paris  and  between 
Meaux  and  Montmirail  by  superior  forces.  They 
resisted  the  enemy  throughout  two  days  of  heavy 
combats^  when  the  approach  of  new  strong  enemy 
columns  was  announced,  and  their  right  wing  was 
withdrawn.* — Mein  Gott!    It  is  defeat!'* 

The  hush  which  fell  upon  the  company  at  this 
startling  news — this  incredible  confession  of  defeat, 
the  first  in  the  war — lasted  through  minute  after 
minute  while  none  could  find  a  word  to  say.  It  was 
broken  by  a  knocking  at  the  door. 

Joseph  went  to  open  it.  He  returned  with  an 
envelope  in  his  hand. 

"A  telegram,  Herr  Major — for  Herr  Kramer." 

The  Justizrat  tore  open  the  envelope — uttered  a 
ivild  cry. 

"Otto!    Otto  is  missing!" 

His  wife  shrieked  and  collapsed  in  a  faint.  Minna 
rose  to  her  feet,  stretched  out  her  hand  for  the  tele- 
gram. 

*' Missing?  What — what  does  that  mean?"  she 
asked  unsteadily.    "Not — not " 

"Prisoner,"  said  the  Major  with  impatient  deci- 
sion, his  mind  preoccupied  with  the  communique  into 


THE  CONQUERORS  213^ 

whicK  he  was  trying  to  read  another  meaning. 
**Kramer,  this  isn^t  so  terrible,  after  all  I"  His  tone 
was  plaintive,  appealing,  his  pose  of  clipped  speech 
forgotten.     "They  do  not  say  defeat!" 

"Prisoner,"  echoed  Minna.  "Then  there  is  hope- 
— hope  still?" 

"Hope  still  I  Of  course  there's  hope  I"  exclaimed 
the  Major.  "They  don't  say  a  word  about  the  left 
wing  of  the  centre.  It's  only  the  right  wing  that  is 
withdrawn.  Withdrawn!  Withdrawn — not  retreat!" 
He  reassumed  his  habitual  manner.  "Battle  pro- 
ceeding. See!  Made  prisoners  too,  and  guns!  Only 
a  setback — a  check.  Go  forward  again.  Never  fear, 
Fraulein — Paris  ours !  To-morrow's  communique — 
certain!" 

"Oh,"  cried  Minna,  "but  I  want  to  know  about 
Otto!  Does  it  mean  he  has  been  left  behind — a 
prisoner — ^perhaps  wounded,  Father-in-law?" 

The  Justizrat  had  gone  round  to  his  wife,  was 
bending  over  her.    He  looked  up. 

"It  may  be  so,  Minna,"  he  said. 

Frau  Hartmann  was  bustling  round  the  stricken 
woman. 

"Be  quiet,  Minna!"  she  snapped.  "Heinrlch,  go 
and  fetch  my  smelling-salts." 

Her  husband  obeyed  meekly.  Minna  sank  down 
in  her  seat,  hid  her  head  upon  an  arm  flung  on  the 
table  and  burst  into  tears. 

The  Major  strode  up  and  down  the  room,  news' 
paper  in  hand,  making  a  disjointed  but  more  and 


^14.  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

more  hopeful  commentary  upon  the  communique. 
He  was  quite  blind  to  the  human  distress  of  his 
friends  in  his  absorption  in  the  gigantic  event  of 
which  these  few  lines  of  black  type  were  the  first 
intelligence. 

^^Natiirlichf  Not  a  word  about  centre — ^left 
wing.  That's  the  battle — real  battle — east  of  Paris 
— fighting  to  cut  French  from  eastern  frontier — still 
proceeding.  Break  through — Paris  ripe  plum !  Ja, 
da  isfs!  Withdraw  right  wing — good  strategy — 
occupy  French — strike  elsewhere."  He  stopped  for 
a  moment.  "Not  defeat!  No!  Impossible!  Im- 
possible! Ridiculous — ridiculous,  Herr  Kramer!" 
He  strode  fiercely  up  to  the  Justizrat,  who  had  re- 
vived his  wife  and  was  now  supporting  her,  sooth- 
ingly, with  his  arm.  The  poor  woman,  conscious 
anew  of  the  calamity,  was  sobbing,  "Otto!  Otto!" 
in  tones  of  heartrending  despair.  Her  husband  was 
endeavouring  to  persuade  her  that  it  was  still  pos- 
sible that  they  would  receive  good  news. 

"Good  news !"  cried  the  Major.  "Of  course  we 
shall  get  good  news!" 

At  that  moment  Herr  Hartmann  returned  with 
his  wife's  smelling-salts, 

"Herr  Major,"  he  said,  "the  French  doctor  is 
outside  and  wants  to  speak  to  you." 

'Whatf  almost  screamed  the  Major.  "French 
doctor?  What  is  he  doing  here?  How — how  the 
devil  did  he  escape?    How?" 

"He  is  with  an  Unteroffizier*^  explained  the  manu- 


THE  CONQUERORS  215 

facturer,  shrinking  back  from  the  wrath  of  the  com- 
mandant.   '^I  don't  know  anything  more." 

"He  can't  see  me!"  cried  the  Major.  "Won't 
see  him  I" 

"Pardon,  Herr  Major,"  said  a  strange  voice 
quietly  in  a  good  German  accent,  "but  I  must  see 
you  I" 

"The  Major  turned  to  see  the  French  doctor 
standing  in  the  room;  behind  him  the  gaunt  figure 
of  a  Landsturm  soldier  filled  the  doorway.  Every 
one  in  the  room  looked  up,  at  this  intrusion,  stared 
at  the  stranger.  He  stood  calm  and  dignified,  the 
mouth  under  the  short  brown  beard  firmly  set,  the 
eyes  under  the  bandaged  forehead  looking  unabashed 
at  his  jailer. 

"Out!"  cried  the  Major,  choked  with  rage  at 
this  audacious  invasion  of  his  private  quarters. 
"Out!  At  once! — Gunther,"  he  shouted  to  the 
Landsturm  soldier,  "take  him  away!  You  are  under 
arrest  yourself  for  bringing  him !    Throw  him  out !" 

"Pardon,  Herr  Major,  I  come  to  inform  you  that 
typhus  has  broken  out  among  your  prisoners.  I 
have  just  come  from  a  dying  man.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  inadvisable  for  any  one  to  touch  me?"  The 
Frenchman  smiled,  sure  of  safety  from  molesta- 
tion. The  Landsturm  soldier  and  the  servant 
shrank  horrified  from  his  neighbourhood. 

"Typhus!"  screamed  the  Major.  "Out!  Out! 
Go  out  at  once  1  Don't  bring  your  filthy  diseases 
here." 


216  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"I  might  point  out,"  said  the  Frenchman  calmly, 
"that  the  disease  is  due  to  the  shockingly  insanitary 
conditions  in  which  the  German  government  has 
seen  fit  to  transport  its  prisoners.  Those  men  were 
picked  up  a  week  ago  on  the  battlefield;  they  have 
been  travelling  for  days  in  filthy  cattle-trucks — ^they 
have  had  no  attention  but  what  I  could  divide  among 
five  hundred  of  them — they  have  been  starved. 
Until  their  arrival  here,  they  had  not  eaten  for  four 
days.  You  have  provided  them  with  a  little  thin 
soup,  I  will  admit.  In  these  circumstances,  I  must 
refuse  to  go  until  my  demands  have  been  complied 
with."    He  took  a  step  toward  the  Commandant. 

The  Major  dodged  back  in  terror. 

**What  do  you  want?  What  do  you  want?"  he 
cried. 

"I  want  a  proper  isolation  hospital  for  the  in- 
fected cases,  medical  stores, — for  there  are  none  in 
the  camp, — proper  food  for  the  sick  men,  beds  for 
the  wounded  who  are  now  lying  on  the  ground,  and 
medical  assistance." 

"I  cannot!"  snapped  the  Major.  "The  prison- 
ers' quarters  are  arranged  for  by  high  authority. 
You  are  their  medical  attendant — no  other!" 

*T  am  aware,"  replied  the  Frenchman,  "that  in 
defiance  of  the  Geneva  Convention  I  am  detained 
as  a  prisoner,  and  I  desire  nothing  better  than  to 
care  for  my  unfortunate  countrymen.  But  it  is  neces- 
sary that  while  I  am  attending  to  the  typhus  cases 
some  other  doctor  should  visit  the  wounded  who  are 


THE  CONQUERORS  217 

not  yet  infected.  I  wish  also,"  he  said  with  a  glance 
at  the  women  in  the  room,  "to  appeal  to  the  women 
of  the  town  to  assist  in  nursing  the  wounded.  Nurses 
are  essential — at  once!"  He  ended  with  a  tone  of 
authority. 

*^VerbotenP*  snapped  the  Major.  "Absolutely 
forbidden  for  civilians  to  come  in  contact  with  the 
prisoners. — Guntherl"  He  turned  to  the  Land" 
Sturm  soldier.  "Double  the  guards  round  the  camp. 
Shoot  any  prisoner  who  approaches  the  barbed  wire. 
Forbid  any  man  to  enter  the  camp.  The  prisoners' 
rations  are  to  be  put  down  inside  the  gateway  and 
left." 

"Do  you  condemn  these  men  to  death?"  cried  the 
Frenchman,  anger  mastering  him. 

"Cursed  Frenchmen!"  said  the  Major.  *^Sie 
mogen  krepieren!    Go  away  I" 

*^Va  victisP*  murmured  the  Justizrat,  his  face 
grim  and  pitiless.  "We  may  have  a  long  war — so 
many  useless  mouths  the  less.  You  are  right,  Herr 
Major,"  he  added  in  a  louder  tone.  "The  German 
population  must  run  no  risk  of  infection.  Our  KuU 
tur  must  not  be  endangered  as  a  result  of  sentimen- 
tality!" 

Herr  Hartmann  had  retreated  to  the  farthest 
comer  of  the  room,  whence  he  stared,  in  the  fascina- 
tion of  terror,  at  this  man  who  carried  death  In  his 
clothes.  The  sweat  pearled  upon  his  forehead.  Frau 
Hartmann  and  the  wife  of  the  Justizrat  clasped  each 
other,  frightened  and  trembling,  stood  speechless. 


^18  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

At  a  little  distance,  Minna  contemplated  this  fear- 
less captive,  who  held  his  ground,  head  high,  eyes 
flashing  contempt.  She  could  not  take  her  gaze 
from  his  face. 

"Herr  Major,''  said  the  Frenchman,  "I  cannot  be 
dismissed  thus.  These  cursed  Frenchmen,  as  you 
call  them,  are  men — men  even  as  your  sons,  the  sons 
and  husbands  of  your  friends  here,  sons  and  hus- 
bands that  may  be  lying  even  now,  wounded  and 
prisoners,  in  French  hands.  Would  you  wish  that 
they  should  be  inhumanly  condemned  to  death — as 
you  condemn  these  soldiers  now  ?  They  have  fought 
for  their  country  as  yours  are  fighting  for  theirs! 
I  appeal  to  you.  Think  of  one  dear  to  you — of 
whose  fate  at  this  moment  you  are  Ignorant — ^be- 
fore you  commit  this  inhumanity,  this  crime  for  which 
you  will  have  to  answer  before  the  tribunal  of  the 
nations!" 

The  eloquence  of  his  tone  was  more  powerful  even 
than  his  words.  The  eyes  above  the  brown  beard 
were  a  flame  that  none  could  meet. 

"Johann!"  cried  Frau  Kramer,  looking  at  her 
husband. 

The  face  of  the  Justlzrat  went  a  shade  harder. 

"The  German  conscience  is  its  own  tribunal!"  he 
said. 

The  girl  shuddered.  A  vision,  the  vision  of  Otto 
^^missing'*  with  all  that  it  implied,  rose  before  her. 
An  obscure  combat  raged  somewhere  deep  within 


THE  CONQUERORS  219 

her,  filled  her  breast.  Suddenly  she  sprang  for- 
ward. 

*'Herr  Frenchman,"  she  cried,  "I  will  help!  I 
can  nurse — I  passed  my  examination." 

^^Minna!'*  The  cry  was  one  simultaneous  chorus 
of  horror,  its  gesture  a  simultaneous  movement  to 
restrain.  The  Major  clutched  vainly  at  her  as  she 
passed  him.  She  ranged  herself  by  the  side  of  the 
Frenchman,  seized  his  hand. 

"Now  I"  she  cried.  "Touch  me  who  dare !  These 
men  shall  not  die  without  at  least  one  to  care  for 
them  I" 

"Minna  I"  screamed  her  mother.  "Come  away 
this  instant  I  Drag  her  away,  Heinrich!  Ach,  she 
has  dishonoured  us!" 

Her  father,  paralysed  at  the  mere  idea  of  contact 
with  the  infection,  did  not  move. 

"Minna,"  said  the  Justizrat  sternly,  "come  away! 
Think  of  Otto!" 

The  girl  stood  firm. 

"I  stay  with  this  man — in  the  camp,"  she  said. 
"You  cannot,  dare  not,  touch  me.  I  stay  with  him 
because  Otto,  in  his  place,  would  do  as  he  does !" 

''Unerhortr  cried  the  Major.  "She  cannot  stay! 
The  camp  is  isolated.    I  have  given  the  order." 

"Will  you  dare  to  remove  me?"  flashed  the  girl 
at  him.  "You  will  provide  the  necessities  this  doc- 
tor demands,  Herr  Major,  or  there  will  be  such  a 
scandal  at  my  death  in  your  neglected  camp  that  you 
will  be  disgraced!" 


220  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

The  Major  swore  in  his  most  vehement  parade- 
ground  manner. 

*'Some  straw  is  essential  at  once,"  said  the  French- 
man with  a  quiet  smile. 

The  Major  swore  again.  "Get  it,  Guntherl"  he 
barked.    "Straw  I    At  once  I" 

The  Landsturmer  saluted,  went  out.  The  Ju&- 
tizrat  groaned. 

The  girl  turned  to  the  French  doctor  who  re- 
minded her  so  much  of  Otto. 

"You  will  have  me  help  you,  Herr  Frenchman?" 
she  asked. 

The  Frenchman's  eyes  looked  into  hers.  They 
communed  in  a  flash  that  transcended  the  cloaks  of 
nationality  and  sex,  approved  each  other. 

"Willingly,  Fraulein,"  he  answered.  "Let  us  go, 
for  there  is  much  to  do." 

They  moved  toward  the  door.  The  Justizrat 
sprang  at  them,  muttering  to  himself:  "My  grand- 
sons— ^my  grandsons  I"    He  barred  the  way. 

"You  shall  not  go!"  he  cried. 

The  girl  held  up  a  warning  hand,  while  with  the 
other  she  retained  the  Frenchman's  grasp. 

"Stand  back,  Herr  Kramer!"  she  said.  "You 
must  run  no  risks.  I  am  possibly  infected."  She 
smiled.  "There  are  perhaps  other  conquerors  than 
yours.  I  go  with  this  one.  Were  Otto  here,  he 
would  go  too  I" 

They  passed  out. 


VIII 

THE   SEA  DEVIL 

IN  the  vicinity  of  the  submarine  harbour  at  Wil- 
helmshaven,  a  strong  cordon  of  Landwehr  in- 
fantrymen, helmeted,  greatcoated,  with  fixed  bayo- 
nets, kept  back  with  much  show  of  authority  a  meagre 
crowd  of  sightseers.  Few  men  were  among  the 
little  throng  that  shivered  in  the  chilly  wind  of  a 
February  morning;  those  that  stood  there  were 
workmen  in  dirty  overalls,  obviously  lingering  for  a 
moment  or  two  on  their  way  home  from  a  night  shift 
at  one  of  the  great  machine  shops  whose  forest  of 
chimneys  in  the  background  overlaid  the  grey  sky 
with  a  whelm  of  brown  fumes.  But  these  work- 
men, roughly  garbed  and  with  the  pallour  of  fatigue 
visible  through  the  smeared  dirt  of  their  faces,  of- 
fered an  immediate  contrast  to  their  fellow  specta- 
tors, the  silent,  shawl-clutching  women,  the  restless, 
sharp-featured  children,  even  to  the  stolid,  grey-clad 
soldiers  in  their  serried  rank.  By  comparison,  they 
were  plump,  well  nourished.  Their  voices,  as  they 
shouted  witticism  or  coarse  repartee,  rang  strangely 
loud  and  sonorous  over  the  hushed,  almost  plaintive, 
murmur  of  the  crowd. 

221 


222  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Dark-ringed  eyes  staring  out  of  white  faces,  thin 
under  the  close-drawn  shawls,  for  the  most  part  in 
black  dresses  of  wretched  quality,  the  warped  soles 
of  their  boots  betraying  the  paper  composition,  the 
women  conversed  with  one  another  in  low  voices. 
The  bony  hands  of  each  and  all  grasped  firmly  a 
little  packet  of  cards,  clutched  to  the  breast  with 
the  twist  of  the  shawl — ^their  passports  to  the  neces- 
saries of  life.  Their  demeanour  was  listless,  apa- 
thetic, here  and  there  convulsed,  suddenly  and  with- 
out warning,  by  the  querulous,  exaggerated  anger 
of  thin-sheathed  nerves.  But  the  high-pitched  cry 
hushed  abruptly  as  the  infantry  officer,  pacing  in 
front  of  his  men,  turned  his  head  toward  it.  Dodg- 
ing around  the  skirts  of  the  women,  peering  under 
the  elbows  of  the  soldiers,  the  pinched  faces  of  the 
children,  their  high  cheek  bones  purple  with  the  cold, 
were  vividly  eloquent  of  privation.  Their  eyes, 
preternaturally  large,  roved  restlessly  alert,  as  if 
questing  a  prey  for  the  furtive  hands  to  snatch. 
Thin  wrists  and  knees  protruded,  sticklike,  from 
their  thread-bare,  outworn  clothing.  None  played. 
On  all  was  an  uncanny  expression  of  premature  age. 
A  baby  hugged  in  a  woman's  shawl  whimpered  hun- 
grily. 

Along  the  roadway  behind  the  little  crowd,  a 
heavy  military  motor  lorry  lumbered  noisily,  its  rub- 
berless  tires  ringing  on  the  cobbles.  It  left  behind 
it  a  suffocating  stench  of  "petrol  substitute." 

From  the  adjacent  buildings  hung  many  flags, 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  223 

the  red,  white  and  black  of  Germany  predominant 
among  the  colours  of  Austria-Hungary,  Bulgaria, 
and  Turkey.  Stretched  across  one  of  the  houses,  In 
large  white  letters  on  a  red  ground,  grimly  significant 
above  that  pinched  throng,  were  the  words :  **Gott 
strafe  EnglandF^  A  little  farther  on,  similarly  dis- 
played, was  the  antlstrophe  ^^Unsere  U-Boot-HeU 
den!  Gott  schiitze  sieP^  ^  And,  explanatory  of  this 
assemblage,  a  third  house  announced :  *'Der  Rache- 
Tag!    i  Februar,  igiy!'*^ 

A  couple  of  official  motor  cars  swung  through  a 
soldier-walled  opening  In  the  crowd  and  sped  down 
the  wide,  paved  roadway  of  the  dock.  Where  they 
stopped,  a  guard  of  honour  presented  arms  with 
swift,  precise  movements,  and  a  military  band  struck 
up  the  air :  ''Lieh*  Faterland,  magst  ruhig  seinJ*  A 
group  of  naval  officers  saluted  as  some  thick-coated 
dignitaries  descended  from  the  cars.  There  was 
much  stepping  forward,  heel-clicking  salutes,  shak- 
ing of  hands,  more  salutes,  and  a  backward  step. 
The  dignitaries  were  plump  and  affable.  The  naval 
officers,  tanned  of  face  and  alert  of  bearing,  were 
naval  officers  all  the  world  over. 

On  the  side  of  the  dock  was  an  alleyway  of  young 
fir  trees  in  tubs.  Their  branches  were  arched  over 
a  red  carpet  that  led  to  the  waterside.  There, 
closely  ranked,  lay  six  submarines,  the  black-crossed 
white  flag,  eagle  centred,  of  the  imperial  navy  flut- 

**'Our  submarine  heroes.    God  protect  them!" 
'"The  day  of  vengeance,    ist  February,  1917!" 


224  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

tering  from  their  short  masts.  The  dignitaries  and 
their  satellites  passed  down  the  corridor  of  trees, 
boarded  the  vessels. 

The  dock  gates  of  the  submarine  harbour  were 
decked  with  evergreen  also.^  Half  an  hour  later, 
they  opened  to  allow  the  passage  of  six  long  bodies 
slipping  through  the  water,  with  high  superstruc- 
tures and  conning  towers  manned  by  sailors  who 
waved  and  cheered.  From  the  dock  came  the  brass 
and  drums  of  the  military  band — ^'Deutschland  uher 
AllesT  From  behind  welled  the  fierce,  speeding 
shouts  of  a  hungry  race  that  saw,  in  a  vision  of 
hatred,  fat  corn  ships  wallowing  through  the  sea 
toward  a  gluttonous  England — saw  them  clutched 
one  and  all,  from  this  day  forth,  into  the  swallow- 
ing deep.  The  plump  dignitaries  had  made  impres- 
sive little  speeches,  full  of  ^'frightfulness."  "The 
whole  world  shall  stand  aghast  at  the  exploits  of  our 
sea  devils!'*  one  of  them  had  announced.  "Gen- 
erations yet  unborn  shall  remember  with  a  shudder 
the  anniversary  of  February  the  First!"  The  naval 
officers  had  listened  with  straight  faces.  In  long 
file,  the  "sea  devils"  slid  out  through  the  calm 
waters  of  the  harbour,  their  oil  engines  silently  puls- 
ing them  onward  to  the  mist-hung  arena  of  their 
war. 

They  were  sped  by  the  vindictive  hatred  of  a  mis- 
ery that,  hopeless  of  relief,  craved  savagely  to  inflict 
an  equal  suffering  on  the  scatheless  enemy. 
*  Vouched  for  by  the  Frankfurter  Zeitung. 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  225 

Kapitan  Leutnant  Karl  Hoffmann,  commander  of 
the  U-026,  joined  his  second  in  command  in  the 
narrow,  canvas-screened  navigating  bridge  on  the 
summit  of  the  high  conning  tower.  Behind  them, 
around  the  steersman,  rose  the  tall  tubes  of  the  three 
periscopes.  In  front  of  them  stretched  the  long, 
narrow,  railed  deck — little  wider  than  a  gangplank 
— featureless  save  for  the  battened  hatchway  mark- 
ing the  lair  of  a  14-pounder  gun.  Running  "light," 
the  U-026  was  butting  into  a  fresh  southwesterly 
gale  with  all  the  force  of  her  two-thousand-horse- 
power, eighteen-knot  engines.  The  high,  bluff  bows 
that  flared  away  to  the  junction  of  the  superstruc- 
ture, and  the  humped,  porpoise  back  of  the  hull, 
crashed  incessantly  into  long  rollers  that  lifted  them- 
selves wall-like,  hung  poised  for  an  instant,  and  then 
were  divided  in  flying  spray  and  a  thud  of  green 
water  resolved  into  foam  upon  the  deck.  The  lift 
of  the  brown-grey  carcass,  as  the  wave  rushed  aft, 
left  two  long  cascades  of  sea  water  pouring  from  the 
superstructure  to  the  hull.  She  ducked  and  rolled, 
every  now  and  then  sliding  to  take  a  vicious  header 
into  the  green  seas  that  hurried  and  jostled  one  an- 
other, eager  for  her  destruction.  To  windward, 
ragged  strips  of  cloud,  dark  under  a  grey  sky,  were 
reaching  out  from  the  coming  squall.  To  the  north 
and  east  the  gust  that  had  passed  heaped  itself 
rounded  into  the  heaven,  intensely  black,  the  sea 
beneath  it  copperas  streaked  and  crowned  with  vivid 
white.    Within  the  circumscribed  horizon  of  trailing 


2^6  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

cloud  and  tumbling,  hurrying  waves  the  U-026  was 
the  only  thing  at  variance  with  the  gale. 

^'Gott  set  dank!  This  is  going  to  last!"  shouted 
the  commander,  as  the  two  officers  suddenly  turned 
their  backs  to  a  flying  scud  that  smote  hard  upon 
their  oilskins.  *'No  chance  of  their  damned  aircraft 
to-day!" 

Leutnant  Wohlsinger  grinned  all  over  his  wet, 
weather-reddened  face. 

*'We  shouldn't  be  here  long!"  He  clutched  at  the 
rail  as,  with  a  lurching,  sideways  dip,  the  U-026 
threatened  to  bury  herself  completely  under  a  sud- 
denly towering  wall  of  water.  Recovering  his  breath 
and  wiping  the  salt  from  his  eyes,  he  added :  *T  hate 
these  confounded  shallow  seas." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  commander,  pulling  the  sag- 
ging canvas  *'dodger"  higher  upon  its  supporting 
stanchions.  "If  only  one  of  the  others  can  catch  the 
Lithuania!  We  shan't  stop  long  in  this  trap !"  He 
glanced  behind  him,  where,  in  response  to  a  previous 
order,  several  men  were  rigging  the  wireless  mast. 
"We  may  get  some  news." 

Wohlsinger  glanced  also  at  the  aerials,  now  being 
hoisted. 

"Hope  we  shan't  have  to  wait  long  for  it!"  he 
shouted.  "Bad  place  to  advertise  one's  self!"  His 
eyes  swept  the  misty  horizon  anxiously.  "We're  on 
the  Holyhead  route." 

His  superior  nodded. 

"Can't  help  it.     It's  eight  bells.      Commodore 


THE  SEA  DEVn.  227 

should  be  talking."  He  also  scanned  the  waste  of 
tumbling  waters  topped  with  streamers  of  flying  spin- 
drift as  the  squall  rushed  down  upon  them.  It  was 
empty  of  any  ship  but  their  own. 

A  man's  head  emerged  from  the  half-open  cap 
of  the  conning  tower,  was  touched  by  outstretched 
fingers  in  a  sketch  of  a  salute  spoiled  by  a  violent  roll 
of  the  vessel. 

"A  message,  Herr  Kapitan!" 

Hoffmann  waved  him  out  of  the  way  and  swung 
himself  down  to  the  control  platform  within  the 
conning  tower.  He  switched  on  the  electric  light, 
took  the  paper  from  the  sailor,  and  read  the  mes- 
sage. It  was  prefaced  by  the  code  letters  of  the 
transmitting  ship  and  his  own. 

V-198  reports  Lithuania  sighted  12:38  p.  m.  50  miles 
N.  W.  Cape  Clear  steaming  24  knots  course  S.  E.  escort 
two  destroyers  beat  off  attack  one  destroyer  believed  dam- 
aged. V-198  out  of  action  repairing  rendezvous.  No  com- 
munication with  V-56  or  T-29.  Feared  loss.  Am  taking 
up  position  7.20  W.  51.59N.  Maintain  your  station.^ 
Communicate  8  a.  m.  to-morrow.^ 

"What  news?"  called  a  voice  from  the  ladder  at 
his  feet.  Hoffmann  looked  to  see  the  round,  pasty 
face  of  the  engineer  officer.  Marine  Ober-Ingenieur 
Wolff,   staring  up   at   him.      The   engineer   officer 

*V  before  a  submarine's  number  indicates  that  she  was  built 
in  the  Voos  yard.  T  similarly  indicates  the  Tecklenburg  yard. 
U  stands  for  the  Urania  yard  as  well  as,  generally,  for  "Unter- 
seeboot."  It  is  alleged  that  there  are,  or  have  been,  at  least 
two  hundred  of  each  of  these  marks. 

*  German  time. 


«28  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

scrambled  up  to  take  the  message  he  held  out.  His 
dark,  beady  eyes  scanned  the  paper,  looked  up  to 
Hoffmann. 

"It  falls  to  us,  then?"  The  curse  which  followed 
the  question  was  a  measure  of  his  gratification  at 
the  prospect. 

''Unless  the  commodore  catches  her,"  replied 
Hoffmann  shortly.  A  fortnight  of  close  confinement 
with  Ober-Ingenieur  Wolff  had  induced  an  almost 
physical  antipathy  in  his  commanding  officer.  He 
was  impatient  of  even  the  briefest  conversation  with 
him,  and  meals  were  a  torture.  At  the  uncalled-for 
curse,  a  sudden  disgust  rose  bitter  within  him.  "We 
shall  do  our  duty,  cost  what  it  will,"  he  said  harshly, 
and  bent  over  the  chart,  pricking  out  the  commo- 
dore's position,  pencilling  a  calculation. 

"It  will  cost  our  lives!"  said  Wolff,  not  to  be 
silenced,  as  he  turned  to  go. 

The  U-026  was  one  of  the  squadron  of  six  boats 
under  the  orders  of  a  commodore.  For  a  week  after 
arriving  at  their  cruising  grounds,  they  had  raided 
the  incoming  merchant  shipping,  sinking  by  torpedo 
and  gunfire.  In  these  operations  one  of  their  num- 
ber had  been  lost.  Then  the  commodore  had  called 
them  together  for  a  great,  concerted  operation.  The 
British  Government  had  chartered  the  mammoth 
transatlantic  Lithuania,  had  filled  her  to  the  brim, 
staterooms,  cabins,  dining  halls  included,  with  wheat. 
Her  cargo  would  feed  the  British  Isles  for  a  fort- 
night.    It  was  known  that  she  had  left  New  York, 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  229 

end  the  German  admiralty  was  making  a  great  ef- 
fort to  intercept  her.  Out  in  the  Atlantic  was  a 
flotilla  of  large-ocean-keeping  submarines.  The 
Lithuania  had  eluded  them.  On  the  north  of  Ire- 
land route  another  flotilla  lurked.  On  the  ordinary 
southern  route — which  the  liner  had  chosen — the 
flotilla  to  which  the  U-026  belonged  lay  in  ambus- 
cade. So  far  the  luck  had  been  with  the  English. 
The  outpost  boat  was  crippled.  Two  others  had 
disappeared  in  the  mysterious  silence  that  was  only 
too  common  an  end.  The  great  liner  had  still  to 
run  the  gauntlet  of  the  commodore's  boat  in  the 
St.  George's  Channel  and  the  U-026  off  Anglesey. 
She  was  rushing  toward  them  now  at  twenty-four 
knots  an  hour.  Hoffmann  finished  his  calculation. 
It  was  four-fifteen  p.  m.  Allowing  for  a  divergent, 
zigzag  course,  she  should  pass  about  eight  to-mor- 
row morning. 

Hoffmann  climbed  again  to  the  grey  cold  of  the 
navigating  bridge.  He  had  scarcely  drawn  himself 
erect  when  the  hochhootsman  (boatswain),  peering 
over  the  dodger  by  Wohlsinger's  side,  uttered  a 
sharp  cry : 

"Steamer  on  the  port  bowl" 

As  the  U-026  lifted  herself  askew  on  a  great 
wave,  Hoffmann  had  a  glimpse  of  a  smudge  of  dark 
smoke  mingling  with  the  streaming  cloud  curtains 
of  the  horizon.  The  glance  was  sufficient.  The  ne- 
cessity of  avoiding  discovery  was  imperative.  He 
shouted  an  order.    The  hochhootsman  blew  a  pierc- 


230  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ing  blast  upon  his  whistle.  Men  came  scrambling 
up  from  below  in  quick  succession. 

A  few  busy  minutes,  and  the  wireless  mast  was 
stowed,  the  navigating  bridge  cleared,  the  steersman 
installed  at  the  wheel  within  the  conning  tower. 
High  up  between  the  oval  steel  walls  Hoffmann  sat 
perched  on  a  little  seat,  his  head  in  the  lookout  cap 
which  surmounted  the  tower.  For  yet  a  moment  the 
U-026  lay  bare  upon  the  surface.  In  her  buoyant 
roll  and  rise  the  rounded  back  on  either  side  of  the 
superstructure  lifted  itself,  glistening  under  the  rush 
of  water  pouring  on  it  from  above.  Then  the  rise 
became  less  and  less  pronounced,  the  settlement 
deeper,  heavier  at  each  dive.  The  rounded  back 
showed  itself  no  more.  The  long  superstructure  wal- 
lowed in  the  surrounding  water,  was  engulfed.  A 
long  line  of  white  foam,  of  convergingly  striated  tur- 
moil, as  above  a  submerged  reef,  marked  its  posi- 
tion. A  wave  rolled  straight,  without  obstacle,  to 
the  conning  tower  and  broke  in  dark-green  trans- 
lucence  over  the  lookout  cap.  The  boat  rolled  some- 
what, pitched  scarcely  at  all.  The  pulse  of  the  oil 
engines  changed  into  the  fast  whir  of  the  electric 
motors.    The  U-026  was  running  awash. 

Through  the  thick  glass  pane  of  the  lookout  cap, 
Hoffmann  gazed  earnestly  at  the  distant  smudge  of 
smoke,  just  discernible  over  the  leaping,  spume-torn 
wave  top  on  a  level  with  his  eyes.  On  what  course 
was  the  danger  moving?  Discovery  would  be  al- 
most certainly  fatal  to  their  chances,   but,  unless 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  231 

forced,  he  did  not  wish  to  dive.  Of  the  surface  mine 
fields  he  had,  thanks  to  an  admirable  intelligence 
service,  a  good  chart,  and  could  avoid  them.  Of  the 
deeply  anchored  submarine  mines — and  other  un- 
pleasantnesses— that  must  protect  the  port  of  Liver- 
pool against  such  as  he,  he  had  no  more  than  a 
shrewd  suspicion.  He  had  no  wish  to  bump  into  a 
sudden  explosion.  The  hostile  ship  was  steering 
directly  athwart  his  bows.  Hoffmann  thanked  vague 
divinities  that  they  were  to  leeward  of  it,  veiled  by 
the  cloud  of  her  smoke.  He  turned  his  gaze  from 
left  to  right — and  shouted  a  sharp  order  suddenly. 

Away  on  the  starboard  quarter,  still  far  distant  in 
a  smother  of  spray,  a  destroyer  was  racing  toward 
them.  Even  as  he  looked,  he  saw  a  spurt  from  her 
bows — saw  a  column  of  water  leap  straight  up  from 
a  lifting  wave,  just  short  of  them.  Green  seas  rolled 
over  the  glass  of  the  lookout  cap.  In  obedience  to 
his  order,  the  U-026  had  submerged,  was  diving 
downward  under  the  guidance  of  her  deflected  hori- 
zontal rudders.  He  dropped  to  the  floor  of  the  con- 
trol platform,  seized  and  twisted  the  two  handles  of 
the  periscope  tube,  gazed  into  the  binoculars  at  the 
bottom.  He  had  one  last  glimpse  of  the  pursuing 
destroyer,  saw  two  more  shell  spouts  leap  from  the 
sea,  and  then  the  periscope  also  was  submerged. 

He  took  his  gaze  from  the  periscope  to  see  Wohl- 
singer  smiling  at  him. 

"Destroyer?"  queried  the  lieutenant,  with  an  ex- 
perienced air. 


2S2  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Yes,  confound  It!"  said  the  commander,  leaning 
over  the  chart.  He  put  his  finger  on  their  approxi- 
mate location,  noted  the  fathom  figures — here  all 
too  small — glanced  at  the  depth-indicator  dial.  The 
needle  turned  steadily  toward  greater  figures.  He 
shouted  another  order.  The  movement  of  the  needle 
was  checked — recovered.  It  swung  gently  up  and 
down  over  double  figures.  The  commander  ran  his 
finger  over  the  chart,  stopped.  "We'll  go  to  bottom 
here  for  the  night,"  he  announced.  He  gave  an 
order  to  the  steersman,  changing  the  course.  The 
boat  pitched  as  she  swung  round,  seemed  to  float  in 
as  easily  disturbed  an  equipoise  as  a  toy  balloon's  in 
the  air.  In  this  shallow  sea,  the  gale  above  stirred 
the  depths  appreciably.  The  boat  "pumped,"  rose 
and  fell  vertically — a  sickening  sensation,  with  the 
floor  dropping  sheer  away  beneath  the  feet — and 
rolled  violently.  At  the  full  ten  knots  an  hour  of 
her  whirring  electric  motors,  the  U-026  ran  for 
safety. 

The  commander  doffed  his  stiff  and  dripping  oil- 
skins, stood  erect  in  the  close-buttoned  blue  jacket 
with  the  two  gold  bands  and  crown  upon  the  cuffs. 
Freed  from  the  sou-wester,  his  head  was  revealed  as 
young,  purposeful,  well  balanced.  The  grey  eyes 
had  a  humorous  twinkle. 

"The  sea  will  be  alive  with  them  now,"  he  said 
to  his  sub,  with  an  upward  gesture  of  the  head  and  a 
grin.  They  stood  together  on  the  control  platform 
of  the  conning  tower,  Wohlsinger  likewise  divested 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  233 

of  his  oilskins.  "Can't  you  see  'em — cursing  us  for 
bringing  'em  out  on  a  day  like  this?  But  I  think 
we've  dodged  'em.  They'll  probably  think  we've 
run  to  earth — here!"  His  left  arm  flung  amicably 
over  the  shoulder  of  his  junior,  he  drew  him  to  the 
chart,  pointed  a  locality.  "Thank  God,  they  can't 
use  their  aircraft  to-day  I" 

"You  don't  think  they'll  stop  the  Lithuaniaf* 
queried  Wohlsinger.  There  was  an  untrammelled 
freedom  in  his  tone  that  was  eloquent  of  the  good 
relations  between  him  and  his  chief.  Quite  obvi- 
ously friendship  born  of  many  perils,  surmounted 
in  common,  linked  the  two  young  men. 

"No.  She's  too  far  on  the  southern  course.  They 
might  divert  her  to  Southampton — they  can't  dock 
her  anywhere  else  in  the  Channel.  But  I  don't  think 
they  will.  They'll  have  a  swarm  out  to  protect  her 
to-morrow  and  try  to  run  her  through.  Our  best 
chance  is  that  they  think  we  have  run  farther  afield." 

He  glanced  up  at  the  depth  indicator  and  again 
at  the  chart.  Then  he  shouted  an  order  to  the  man 
at  the  horizontal  steering  gear  and  clanged  the  en- 
gine-room telegraph  to  half  speed,  to  "slow."  An- 
other order  filled  all  the  diving  tanks  to  their  ex- 
treme capacity.  The  depth  indicator  that  had  leaped 
upward  sank  slowly.  There  was  a  bump,  a  jar,  a 
gentle  grating  along  the  bottom.  Once  more  the 
engine-room  telegraph  clanged.  "Stop!"  Rocking 
a  little,  the  U-026  lay  lightly  upon  the  sea  bed. 

"There  we  are  till  to-morrow  morning!"   said 


234?  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Hoffmann.  "Come  and  have  a  hand  at  piquet.  Pipe 
to  ahendessen,  boatswain  P' 

They  descended  into  the  interior  of  the  boat.  The 
arch-roofed  chamber,  lit  by  electric  light,  a  polished, 
gleaming  torpedo  lashed  against  each  wall,  bulk- 
headed  aft  for  the  engine-room,  was  being  set  out 
with  trestle  tables.  Blue-jumpered  men,  panikin  in 
hand,  were  settling  themselves  around  them.  A  cook 
entered  with  a  steaming  dish.  The  commander  and 
his  junior  turned  in  to  the  tiny  officers'  quarters, 
switched  on  the  electric  light. 

They  opened  up  the  little  table  which,  extended, 
filled  nearly  all  the  available  space,  and  squeezed 
themselves  round  to  the  cushioned  seats  which 
sprang  from  the  bulkheads.  As  calmly  as  though 
seated  in  the  Officers'  Club  at  Wilhelmshaven,  in- 
stead of  resting  on  the  sea  bed  twenty  fathoms  be- 
low the  patrol  boats  of  their  foes,  with  instant  death 
as  the  penalty  of  discovery,  they  cut  for  the  deal. 

"You  have  the  devil's  own  luck,  Hoffmann!" 
grumbled  Wohlsinger  amicably,  as  he  totted  up  the 
figures  of  the  second  rubber  of  six  hands. 

"I  hope  he's  got  enough  to  go  round  for  all  of 
us.  We  need  it  all."  Ober-Ingenieur  Wolff  had 
entered  the  little  cabin.  He  also  squeezed  himself 
round  to  a  seat.     "Still  at  that  infernal  game !" 

Neither  of  his  comrades  so  much  as  looked  up.' 
Imprisonment  for  a  long  period  of  time  with  an 
alien  temperament  is  apt  to  sour  the  amenities  of 
intercourse. 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  235 

A  frown  lowered  on  the  engineer's  heavy,  pasty 
face,  scarred  with  an  ugly  reminiscence  of  his  stu- 
dent days. 

"WeVe  nicely  in  the  trap,  it  seems  to  me,"  he 
grumbled.  "TheyVe  spotted  us.  If  the  weather 
clears,  they'll  have  an  aeroplane  out  for  a  certainty. 
We  shan't  have  a  dog's  chance  in  these  shallows.  I 
believe  the  gale's  blown  itself  out  already."  He 
finished  with  desperate  pessimism,  glaring  at  the  card 
players.  "I  wish  I  had  never  volunteered  for  this 
cursed  submarine  service." 

Hojffmann  raised  his  head. 

"So  do  I,  Wolff,"  he  said  quietly. 

Wohlsinger  murmured  something  about  a  prefer- 
ence for  Kiel  and  "Nachtleben." 

Wolff  turned  on  him  furiously,  the  saber  cut  across 
his  face  livid  with  the  rush  of  passionate  blood. 

"Do  you  suggest  I  am  a  coward?"  he  shouted,  his 
self-control,  sapped  by  long-continued  nervous  strain, 
utterly  gone.  "You  shall  give  me  satisfaction  for 
that  when  we  get  back — you  shall  I  Do  you  hear 
me?"  Wohlsinger  was  imperturbably  shuffling  the 
cards,  not  even  looking  at  him. 

Hoffmann   interposed. 

"That  will  do,  Wolff,"  he  said,  looking  straight 
at  the  twitching  face.  "Remember  you  are  a  Ger- 
man officer  on  board  a  boat  that  I  have  the  honour  to 
command.  It  is  unnecessary  to  take  the  crew  into 
your  confidence,  and  I  forbid  it.  Your  courage  is 
not  in  question.     The  suggestion — made  originally 


236  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

by  yourself — was  that  there  are  other  spheres  of 
naval  activity  more  congenial  to  you.    We  agree." 

"I'm  just  as  eager  to  drown  these  Englanders  as 
you  are,"  grumbled  the  engineer.  "Only  I  don't 
see  the  necessity  of  committing  suicide  to  do  it.  No- 
body will  be  more  pleased  than  I  if  all  their  food 
ships  are  sunk  and  all  the  schweinhunde  starve — 
every  dog  of  theml" 

"I  wonder  how  short  of  food  they  really  are?" 
remarked  Wohlsinger,  feeling  the  danger  of  the  en- 
gineer's bad  temper  and  trying  to  induce  an  amicable 
conversation.  "The  Hamburger  Nachrichten  was 
positive  before  we  left  that  they  had  not  got  a  week's 
supply  in  the  country.  Did  you  read  that  account  of 
the  food  riots  in  London,  Hoffmann?  If  they  lose 
this  cargo,  their  game's  up." 

"It  may  be  so,"  agreed  Hoffmann.  "But  one 
reads  so  many  silly  stories  in  the  papers." 

"I  believe  they're  starving  already,"  said  Wolff 
fiercely,  determined  at  all  costs  to  hostility  toward 
his  superior.  "I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  believe 
the  papers.  They  must  be  starving.  They  don't 
grow  anything,  and  we're  sinking  all  their  ships. 
Good  thing,  too !  I  hope  every  pig  dog  of  them— 
man,  woman,  and  child — starves.  That's  the  way  to 
serve  the  enemies  of  Germany — Belgium,  Servia, 
Poland — and  now  England.  Die  sollen  alle  crC' 
pier  en  r* 

Hoffmann  leaned  his  chin  upon  his  hand,  looked 
thoughtful.     He   saw  as  in  a  vision  the  pinched 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  237 

throng  of  women  and  children  near  the  docks  at 
Wilhelmshaven  on  the  morning  that  they  had 
started.  That  kind  of  thing — only  worse — ^Belgium, 
Servia,  Poland,  England!    He  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Well,  one  must  do  one's  duty.  War  is  a  terri- 
ble thing.  I  like  torpedoing  battleships.  I  don't 
mind  a  fight.  But  I  must  confess  I  don't  like  sink- 
ing liners  and  I  don't  like  making  war  on  women 
and  children." 

"England  started  it!"  said  Wolff  brutally. 

"Yes,"  chorused  Hoffmann  and  Wohlsinger,  with 
complete  conviction.  "England  started  it!"  Wohl- 
singer cut  the  cards  upon  the  table.  "Well,  destruc- 
tion to  the  Lithuania!  Come  on,  Hoffmann — ^there's 
time  for  another  game." 

Presently  a  man  entered,  laid  the  table.  The  three 
officers  ate. 

Not  without  some  bickering,  the  weary  hours  of 
inactivity  passed.  At  last  they  turned  in.  The 
U-026  gently  cradled  her  crew  as  they  slept  peace- 
fully at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

The  next  morning  Hoffmann  and  Wohlsmger 
were  sitting  at  their  coffee.  Wolff  had  already  fin- 
ished, had  gone  to  his  engines. 

"I  shan't  rise  till  the  latest  possible  minute,"  Hoff- 
mann was  saying.  "They  are  certain  to  have  pa- 
trols out.  Eight  bells,  the  commodore  said.  We 
shall  have  to  rise  then." 

"I  wonder  what  the  weather's  like  this  morning?" 
queried  Wohlsinger. 


2S8  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Yes."  An  expression  of  anxiety  passed  over  the 
commander's  face.  "That's  what  has  been  haunt- 
ing me.  Please  God,  the  gale  is  continuing!  What's 
that?" 

Both  officers  jumped  up  in  sudden  alarm.  Over- 
head there  was  a  grating,  scraping  noise,  resonant 
on  the  metal  hull. 

"Dragnets!" 

Both  stood,  stock-still,  listening  to  the  dread 
sound.  Wohlsinger's  eyes  held  his  commander's 
face.  The  scraping  noise  continued,  with  heavy 
bangs  where  the  net  tore  free  of  an  obstacle  on  the 
hull.  They  strove  to  determine  the  direction  of  the 
movement  of  the  net.    It  seemed  to  be  passing  aft. 

Followed  by  his  junior,  Hoffmann  dashed  out, 
shouted  quick  orders  to  the  fear-paralysed  crew, 
sprang  up  to  the  control  platform.  Fortunately  for 
the  U-026,  the  dragnet  had  come  in  contact  with  the 
nose  and  not  the  stern.  As  yet  it  was  scraping  only 
over  a  part  of  the  foredeck.  The  engines  of  the  sub- 
marine awoke — half  speed  astern!  The  bottom 
bumped  and  grated  on  the  sea  floor.  Every  ear  was 
at  strain  to  follow  the  scraping  of  those  deadly  steel 
links,  unseen,  but  vividly  imagined,  overhead.  The 
friction  was  quicker;  they  could  hear  the  folds  of  the 
net  slipping.  Hoffmann  clanged  the  engine-room  tel- 
egraph. Full  speed  astern !  He  ordered  a  deflection 
of  the  horizontal  rudders  that  inclined  her,  tail  up, 
nose  down,  from  the  sea  bed.  Overhead  the  steel 
links  rattled  and  slipped,  sonorously  metallic  on  the 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  239 

deck.  There  was  a  last  quick  rush,  and  then  silence, 
save  for  the  whir  of  the  electric  motors.  For  yet  an 
instant  or  two  the  backward  run  of  the  submarine 
continued.  The  bows  rose  to  a  level  keel.  Then 
Hoffmann  switched  her  violently  round  to  starboard, 
clanged  the  telegraph  to  full  speed  ahead.  As  she 
pitched  and  swung  round,  leaped  forward,  a  violent 
shock  smote  her,  flung  her  over  on  one  side,  threw 
every  man  on  board  off  his  feet.  There  was  a  muf- 
fled detonation. 

"Just  In  time  I"  cried  Wohlslnger,  as  he  picked 
himself  up.  The  submarine  righted  herself  In  heavy 
rolls.  All  knew  the  meaning  of  the  shock  and  deto- 
nation. A  charge  of  high  explosive  had  been  slid 
down  one  of  the  hawsers  of  the  dragnet. 
"Quick!"  shouted  Hoffmann.  "The  oil  I" 
Wohlslnger  leaped  Into  the  Interior  of  the 
vessel,  ran  to  where  the  air-lock  hatch  protruded 
slightly  downward  from  the  steel  roof.  It  was  the 
means  of  escape  in  case  of  accident,  but  not  of  that 
did  the  lieutenant  think  now.  Summoned  by  his 
orders,  one  man  unscrewed  the  fastenings  of  the 
hatch.  Another  opened  a  drum  of  oil.  The  hatch 
was  opened,  the  drum  thrust  In,  the  lock  fastened 
again.  A  lever  was  pulled,  opening  the  outer  lid. 
Haply  the  keen-eyed  foe  above,  searching  the  sea 
for  signs  of  his  success,  would  perceive  the  air  bub- 
bles, the  oil  upon  the  surface.  In  face  of  this  ac- 
cepted evidence  of  their  destruction,  he  might  re- 
nounce further  efforts. 


240  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Ere  Wohlsinger  returned  to  his  commander  on 
the  control  platform,  he  smiled  grimly  at  the  scared, 
round  face  of  the  engineer  thrust  through  the  open 
door  of  the  bulkhead.  He  reassured  him  with  a 
word. 

He  found  Hoffmann  anxiously  meditative.  The 
crux  of  his  mental  debate  was  the  condition  of  the 
weather.  Was  the  gale  continuing?  Ignorant  of 
that,  he  could  not  be  sure  whether  they  had  been 
spotted  from  an  aeroplane  as  they  lay  on  the  sea 
bed,  and  their  destruction  deliberately  planned,  or 
whether  a  sweeping  dragnet  had  caught  them  in 
blind  chance.  If  aerial  observation  was  possible,  it 
would  be  safer  to  lie  on  the  bottom,  simulating 
wreck.  If  the  gale  continued,  he  could  slip  away 
from  this  dangerous  area,  rise  cautiously.  It  was 
seven-thirty.  In  any  case,  he  was  due  to  communi- 
cate with  the  commodore  in  half  an  hour.  To  do 
this  he  must  come  to  the  surface. 

The  commander  decided  to  risk  the  weather.  Con- 
sulting the  chart,  he  set  a  course.  Blindly,  at  fifteen 
fathoms,  the  submarine  ran  on. 

For  twenty  minutes  her  totally  submerged  prog- 
ress continued  in  a  direction  that  should  take  her 
as  far  as  possible  from  sight  of  land  when  emer- 
gence became  necessary.  Then,  in  obedience  to  his 
order,  the  deck  inclined,  bows  up.  She  was  rising. 
He  stationed  himself  at  the  periscope. 

When  he  first  looked  he  saw  only  dimly  translu- 
cent green;  then  quick,  intermittent  flashes  of  white 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  £41 

light;  then  a  dark,  vitreous,  highly  mobile  surface 
of  water  at  close  quarters,  suddenly  and  completely 
blotted  out  at  intervals.  Peering  down  into  the 
binoculars,  his  vision  emerged  into  a  pale-blue  sky, 
under  which  leaped,  flashing  and  foaming,  blue- 
green  waves  whose  tops  were  on  a  plane  with  his 
sight.  He  turned  the  periscope  by  the  side  handles, 
scanning  the  entire  narrow  horizon,  sixty  degrees 
at  a  time.  He  saw  neither  sail  nor  smoke  above  the 
leaping  wave  tops.  Overhead?  He  could  only  hope 
that  the  fresh  wind  kept  the  aeroplanes  In  their  har- 
bours. For  a  few  minutes  he  held  on  cautiously  just 
below  the  surface.  Then  the  U-026  rose,  blowing 
out  her  tanks. 

As  she  rocked  and  pitched,  light  upon  the  waves, 
her  deck  was  busy  with  men  rigging  the  aerials  in 
feverish  haste.  Hoffmann  stood  on  top  of  the  con- 
ning tower,  anxiously  searching  the  distances.  The 
sea  was  empty,  the  sky  also,  the  horizon  misty.  To 
the  east,  the  sky  was  bright  with  the  coming  sun. 
He  looked  long  and  keenly  at  the  southwest.  There 
was  no  sign  of  the  smoke  he  looked  for. 

The  minutes  passed.  He  glanced  at  the  aerials 
now,  humming  like  a  harp  in  the  wind.  They  should 
be  talking.  But  no  messenger  came  to  him.  He  was 
already  impatient  when  a  man  emerged  from  the  cap 
of  the  conning  tower,  saluted. 

"The  operator  reports  that  no  communication  can 
be  made  with  the  commodore,  Herr  Kapitan  !*' 

Wohlsinger,  curious,  had  followed  the  man.   His 


^42  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

eyes  exchanged  a  significant  comment  with  his  su- 
perior. 

'Tell  him  to  try  again!"  ordered  Hoffmann 
curtly. 

The  man  disappeared,  and  the  two  officers  waited. 
But  it  was  in  vain.  No  contact  could  be  established 
with  their  consort.  In  a  voice  of  ice-cold  decision, 
Hoffmann  ordered  the  aerials  to  be  taken  down. 

"Only  we  to  stop  her!"  said  Wohlsinger.  His 
tone,  that  implied  the  epitaph  of  the  other  boat,  was 
tinged  with  a  doubt. 

"It  will  be  done,"  replied  Hoffmann,  with  grim 
emphasis. 

Once  more  the  diving  tanks  of  the  U-026  were 
filled.  Once  more  her  hull  sank  below  the  waves, 
only  her  periscope  projecting.  In  the  oval  conning 
tower,  Hoffmann  and  Wohlsinger  stood  side  by  side, 
peering  into  the  binoculars.  Her  engines  were  run- 
ning slow,  keeping  only  enough  way  on  her  for  steer- 
age. They  were  on  or  near  the  course  of  the  great 
liner  hurrying  toward  them,  as  yet  unseen.  At  any 
moment  she  might  lift  above  the  horizon. 

Suddenly  Hoffmann  gave  a  quick  turn  to  his  peri- 
scope. Some  distance  away  on  the  port  bow  some- 
thing emerged  from  the  mist.  It  was  a  small  steam 
trawler,  the  red  bottom  under  her  bows  lifting  clear 
out  of  the  water  as  she  rose  to  the  waves.  He  con- 
sidered her  anxiously.  An  armed  mine  sweeper? 
Heavily  down  at  the  stern  with  the  weight  of  the 
dragging  trawl  her  appearance  was  peaceful  enough. 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  M^ 

Apparently  she  was  alone.  She  held  on  her  course. 
Hoffmann's  mouth  set  tight.  It  was  possible  she 
might  not  notice  the  periscope — or,  if  remarked,  con- 
sider them  British.  He  resisted  an  impulse  to  dive. 
The  periscope  swept  round  again.  A  low  cry  came 
involuntarily  from  his  lips.  Away  on  the  southwest 
horizon  was  a  heavy  blur  of  dark  smoke — ^the 
Lithuania! 

In  compliance  with  his  order,  Wohlsinger  leaped 
down  from  the  control  platform,  called  for  the  tor- 
pedo crews.  They  assembled  at  their  stations,  bow 
and  stern.  A  thrill  of  excitement  pervaded  the  ves- 
sel. Quick,  loud  voices — a  merry  laugh — came  to 
Hoffmann's  ears  as  he  gazed  into  the  periscope, 
watched  the  blur  of  smoke,  ever  more  distinct.  If 
the  liner  held  her  course,  she  would  cross  his  bows. 
He  began  to  calculate  whether  he  should  run  for- 
ward. His  vision  was  annihilated  with  a  loud  crash 
and  a  shock  that  numbed  his  arms  from  his  grip 
on  the  handles. 

He  sprang  to  the  other  periscope — saw  a  faint 
spurt  from  the  trawler,  now  very  close — and  that 
periscope  also  was  shattered.  The  third  had  been 
caught  and  bent  by  the  same  shot.  The  U-026  was 
blinded  as  a  submarine.  Hoffmann  looked  up,  his 
face  set,  his  eyes  ablaze.  His  brain  worked  with  a 
timeless  speed.  He  shouted  order  upon  order.  The 
needle  of  the  depth  Indicator  dipped.  The  engines 
hurried  In  a  feverish  whir.  The  U-026  swung 
round,  dived,  dashed  forward.    The  conning  tower 


^44  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

was  suddenly  packed  close  with  men  who  waited. 

The  commander  stood,  grim,  calculating  the  sec- 
onds. The  thought  to  dive  for  escape  did  not  so 
much  as  occur  to  him.  The  great  prey  they  had 
already  risked  so  much  to  await  was  rushing  ever 
nearer  to  them,  coming  on  at  the  speed  of  a  railway 
train,  unconscious — he  prayed — of  the  danger.  He 
saw  a  swift  fight  with  the  trawler — haply  alone — a 
victory  that  would  give  him  a  few  minutes'  respite. 
One  last  dive — the  prey  in  flank — and  then  come 
what  would!  So  he  saw,  with  narrowed  eyes,  into 
the  future.    He  shouted  an  order. 

The  blast  of  compressed  air  blew  out  the  water 
from  the  ballast  tanks.  Like  a  cork  the  submarine 
shot  straight  to  the  surface.  Ere  the  white  light 
flooded  in  through  the  plate-glass  windows  of  the 
conning  tower,  the  hatch  was  unscrewed,  the  close- 
packed  men  scrambling  out  above  in  furious  haste. 

The  commander  glanced  through  the  windows  at 
his  enemy.  He  had  dived  right  under  her,  had  come 
up  at  a  greater  distance  than  before  on  her  port 
quarter.  He  saw  the  run  of  men  on  her  deck,  the 
group  round  a  weapon  in  the  bows.  She  must  turn 
to  use  it.  His  own  men  were  working  like  maniacs 
at  the  fourteen-pounders  fore  and  aft.  Already  both 
guns  were  up  from  the  wells  that  had  contained 
them. 

The  trawler  brought  her  weapon  to  bear  first — a 
light  quick-firer.  It  spat  rapidly,  viciously,  and  on 
the  instant  his  two  fourteen-pounders  replied  with 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  245 

sharp,  splitting  cracks.  He  saw  the  quick  spurts  of 
explosions  on  the  trawler's  deck,  saw  her  funnel  sud- 
denly awry — heard  yells  of  pain  from  his  forward 
gun  crew,  the  hammering  of  projectiles  on  the  hull. 
Fiercely  rapid  the  interchange  of  shots  continued 
through  immeasurable  seconds.  He  saw  that  his 
gunners  were  obeying  orders — one  gun  firing  at  the 
enemy's  weapon,  another  at  the  trawler's  hull.  A 
tangle  of  wrecked  rigging  fell  over  her  side,  but  the 
gun  in  the  bows  still  spat. 

He  glanced  at  the  approaching  liner,  now  behind 
him,  over  his  left  shoulder,  startlingly  close.  Her 
colossal  bulk  towered  high  from  the  water,  the  four 
enormous  red  funnels  glowed  in  the  sun.  He  cursed 
in  an  agony  of  impatience.  She  had  changed  her 
course.  Yet  another  few  minutes  and  she  would 
escape.  Far  distant,  on  the  port  bow  of  the  liner, 
away  from  him,  a  smudge  of  smoke  betrayed  the 
escorting  destroyer.  He  looked  again  at  the  trawler 
' — saw  the  gun  crew  in  her  bows  vanish — saw  her 
flank  roll  upward  in  a  great  cloud  of  steam.  She 
swung  back  in  a  return  roll  that  did  not  cease.  There 
was  a  glint  of  red  among  a  turmoil  of  water.  Where 
she  had  b,een  was  only  a  commotion  of  the  waves. 

ISlowl  He  glanced  once  more  at  his  majestic  prey. 
She  was  about  two  miles  distant — extreme  range. 
He  must  dive,  dash  forward  at  an  angle  to  her 
course.  The  orders  were  already  on  his  lips  when 
a  man  leaned  over  the  hatch  of  the  conning  tower. 


«46  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"We  are  badly  hulled,  Herr  Kapitan !  The  after 
gun  is  out  of  action." 

Hoffmann  sprang  up  to  look  over  the  rim.  He 
saw  a  great  gash  aft.  Each  wave  that  splashed 
upon  her  hull  there  was  weakened,  engulfed. 

While  he  looked  he  heard  the  bow  gun  crack 
rapidly  behind  him.  He  turned  his  head  to  see  some- 
thing rushing  across  the  water  at  a  tremendous 
speed,  hidden  behind  sheets  of  flying  spray,  coming 
straight  toward  them.  A  shower  of  machine-gun 
bullets  whip-cracked  around  his  head.  Like  some 
fierce  spirit  of  the  sea,  the  spray-scattering  craft 
came  on — zigzagging  to  avoid  the  shells  that  spouted 
up  all  around  her — bore  down  upon  them  with  in- 
credible velocity.  He  saw  some  of  his  gunners  fall, 
the  gun  fire  again  and  again.  He  saw  the  great  liner, 
gleaming  in  the  sun — three  thousand  yards  away. 

He  dropped  into  the  conning  tower,  a  fierce  re- 
solve dominant.  He  could  not  dive.  Come  what 
would,  he  would  torpedo!  He  clanged  the  engine- 
room  telegraph — shouted  an  order  to  the  steers- 
man. He  must  get  way  on  the  boat.  She  could  only 
discharge  her  torpedoes  directly  fore  or  aft.  She 
lay  now  broadside  on  to  her  target,  wallowing  in 
the  waves.  He  shouted  an  order  through  the  speak- 
ing tube  to  the  bow  torpedo  crew,  gave  a  range. 
Then  he  waited  for  the  boat  to  turn.  She  did  not 
move.  He  saw,  with  fierce  impatience,  the  liner 
change  her  course  a  point  or  two  to  port — away. 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  247 

The  seconds  were  precious.  Still  the  submarine  wal- 
lowed, broadside  on. 

Why  had  the  engines  stopped?  He  clanged  the 
telegraph  again  furiously  and  bent  to  peer  through 
the  windows  at  his  prey.  Behind  him  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  rush  of  men  who  clambered  through  the 
hatch.  A  hail  of  machine-gun  bullets  beat  on  the 
wall.  He  turned  in  mad  anger,  seized  a  pair  of 
dangling  legs,  pulled  them  down.  A  white-faced, 
panic-stricken  man  panted  in  front  of  him,  stammer- 
ingly  answered  his  passionate  question: 

*'Der  Oher-Ingenieur!    Der  Oher-Ingenieur F* 

The  commander  released  him,  sprang  to  the 
hatchway,  looked  out.  He  saw,  on  a  deck  littered 
with  bodies,  Ober-Ingenieur  Wolff  standing  with  a 
white  handkerchief  fluttering  from  his  outstretched 
hand.  He  heard  an  agonised  voice  shriek:  ^'Ret- 
tung!  Rettung!  Kamerad!  KameradF^  He  saw 
the  hydroplane  motor  boat  swing  round  alongside 
with  a  great  swash  of  water  that  leaped  over  the 
deck  of  the  submarine.  *^Kamerad!  Kamerad!*' 
shrieked  the  engineer. 

He  glanced  toward  the  liner.  She  had  turned  her 
stern  toward  him,  was  already  out  of  range. 

Kapitan  Leutnant  Hoffmann  dropped  down  to  the 
control  platform  once  more.  His  face  was  set  in 
the  grimness  of  a  judge  who  condemns.  "One  min- 
ute more,  and  we  should  have  got  her!"  beat  in  his 
brain,  remorselessly  reiterated. 

He  shouted  into  the  interior  of  the  submarine: 


248  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Abandon  ship  I"  He  waited,  grim  and  silent,  while 
the  men  rushed  up,  clambered  into  safety.  Wohl- 
singer  pressed  his  hand  speechlessly  as  he  passed. 
The  last  man  gone,  the  commander  pulled  a  lever. 
Then  he,  too,  scrambled  out. 

Quiet,  self-controlled,  he  walked  along  the  deck 
to  where  the  motor  boat  lay,  her  crew  grinning.  He 
saluted  her  commander,  a  lad  in  oilskins. 

"I  am  your  prisoner,  sir,"  he  said  in  perfect  Eng- 
lish. 

The  survivors  of  the  crew  were  already  on  board 
the  motor  boat.  Ober-Ingenieur  Wolff  sat  in  the 
stern  sheets,  his  face  like  cheese,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
his  commander. 

"Look  out!"  shouted  some  one  in  the  motor  boat. 
The  U-026  was  sinking  fast.  The  Englishmen  who 
had  boarded  her  leaped  back  to  safety.  There  was 
a  gurgle  of  water  over  her  deck.  The  German  com- 
mander sprang  on  board  the  hydroplane,  just  in 
time.  The  little  craft  sheered  off,  tossed  in  a  tur- 
moil of  waves. 

Kapitan  Leutnant  Hoffmann  quietly  took  a  re- 
volver from  his  pocket,  looked  Ober-Ingenieur 
Wolff  between  the  eyes,  and  shot  him  dead. 

Some  two  hours  later,  Hoffmann,  prim  and  digni- 
fied, sat  in  the  rear  seat  of  a  motor  car  that  sped 
through  the  streets  of  Liverpool.  On  one  side  of 
him  was  Wohlsinger,  contentedly  smoking  a  cigar; 
on  the  other,  a  British  officer.     Hoffmann  was  im- 


THE  SEA  DEVIL  249 

pelled  to  speech,  feeling  it  incumbent  upon  him  to 
unbend  graciously. 

"It  is  fortunate  for  you  that  your  great  ship  es- 
caped, sir,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  the  British  boy  answered  in  a  casual 
tone.  "The  underwriters  would  have  been  very  sick 
if  you  had  got  her.  You  had  a  jolly  sporting  try, 
anyway,"  he  added,  in  really  sympathetic  consola- 
tion. 

Hoffmann  stared,  not  quite  understanding. 

"But  her  cargo — you  would  be  starving  in  a  fort- 
night, would  you  not?" 

"Oh,  rot!"  said  the  boy.  He  waved  his  hand, 
indicating  the  busy  life  of  the  street.  "Do  we  look 
like  it?  Everybody  has  to  be  beastly  careful,  of 
course — but  starvation!"  He  laughed.  "Bally 
rot!" 

Hoffmann  looked  at  the  well-filled  shops,  the 
throngs  of  well-dressed  women,  the  laughing  chil- 
dren playing  on  their  way  from  school — and  he  sud- 
denly saw  the  pinched  crowd  shouting  them  off  near 
the  docks  at  Wllhelmshaven.  He  passed  his  hand 
over  his  eyes,  shutting  out  a  sudden  doubt  of  the 
indubitable.  No — it  could  not  be — the  Fatherland 
must  winl 


IX 

THE  IRON  CROSS 

IT  was  blue  twilight  in  the  wide  sandy  trench. 
Little  groups  of  German  soldiers  moved  about 
freely,  chattered  and  laughed  without  the  least  re- 
straint on  their  voices.  Some  of  them  emerged  from 
or  disappeared  into  dugouts  in  the  base  of  the  para- 
pet, but  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  trench 
had  evidently  abandoned  their  cave  dwellings  for  the 
primitive  lean-to  shelters — a  sheet  of  corrugated 
iron  or  a  few  boards  which  partially  roofed  the 
trench  here  and  there.  More  complete  protection 
was  superfluous  in  this  Russian  summer. 

Under  them  men  divested  of  accoutrement  sat 
watching  the  cooking  pots  on  fires  which  smoked 
with  impunity  into  the  clear  sky.  No  sound  of  gun 
or  rifle  disturbed  the  evening  stillness.  Only  the 
sentries  standing  on  the  fire  step  at  long  intervals 
from  each  other,  in  a  languid  observation  of  a  land- 
scape invisible  from  the  bottom  of  the  trench,  were 
evidence  that  this  was  the  front  line,  that  an  enemy 
was  in  proximity. 

A  soldier  with  a  packet  of  letters  in  his  hand  ap- 
proached a  group  which  had  plenished  its  mess  tins 

250 


THE  IRON  CROSS  251 

from  the  cooking  pot  and  with  Teutonic  avidity  was 
severally  intent  upon  the  serious  business  of  food. 
The  half  dozen  faces  looked  up  in  a  sudden  trans- 
formation to  eager  intelligence. 

^Thepost!" 

One  of  the  men  sprang  up  and  hurried  toward  the 
soldier. 

"Is  there  one  for  me?"  His  tone  was  so  plain- 
tively anxious  that  the  rest  of  the  group  burst  into 
laughter. 

'Ei,  SalzmannI  You'll  know  soon  enough  that 
the  Schdtzchen  has  thrown  you  over!"  "He's  afraid 
some  one  has  told  her  about  him  I"  "That's  what 
going  home  on  leave  does  for  you,  Salzmann !  You 
get  caught  by  a  girl,  and  then  no  more  peace  of 
mind  I"  "Don't  give  him  his  letters  until  the  last, 
Mayer!" 

Ribald  variations  upon  the  theme  of  the  foolishly 
enamoured  followed  in  a  rivalry  of  coarse  sol- 
datesque  wit,  each  trying  to  think  of  some  more 
comic  allusion  than  his  neighbour.  Salzmann,  a 
blond,  simple-faced  young  man,  whose  eyes  were 
wide  in  a  permanent  expression  of  alarm,  was  the 
habitual  butt  of  his  squad;  his  betrothal  when  last  on 
leave  was  a  novel  and  still  unexhausted  source  of 
mocking  gaiety.  He  hurried  now  at  the  side  of  the 
approaching  postman,  imploring  a  sight  of  the  let- 
ters, which  was  grinningly  refused. 

"One  for  you,  Mendell!"  said  the  soldier,  sorting 
out  his  packet.     "Two  for  you,  Schmidt!     Here, 


252  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Griinbaum  I"  He  pushed  the  eagerly  clutching  Salz- 
mann  to  one  side.  "Wait !"  he  said  roughly.  "Here, 
Burger  I  Weissenbach!"  He  distributed  the  letters ; 
stood  with  empty  hands. 

"None  for  me!"  cried  Salzmann  in  such  forlorn 
disappointment  that  his  comrades  laughed  again. 

"For  you?"  said  the  postman,  as  if  trying  to  re- 
member. His  face  was  perfectly  serious,  his  wink 
of  Intelligence  to  the  others  almost  imperceptible. 
They  rocked  in  their  mirth.  "Yes — I  think  there 
was  one  for  you.     I  must  have  lost  it." 

"Give  it  me!  Give  it  me!"  cried  Salzmann  al- 
most tearfully,  like  a  child  whose  plaything  Is  with- 
held by  a  teasing  senior. 

The  soldier  made  a  show  of  going  through  his 
pockets. 

"I  certainly  had  It,"  he  said.  "No;  nothing  here." 
Pocket  after  pocket  was  examined.  He  came  to  the 
last.  "Ah !  Is  this  It?"  He  produced  a  letter.  "Jo- 
hann  Salzmann?    Yes;  this  must  be  yours!" 

Salzmann  snatched  It  from  him  with  an  angry 
curse,  which  added  to  the  merriment  of  his  comrades. 

There  was  a  silence  while  the  group  perused  their 
correspondence.  Salzmann  left  the  circle  to  seat 
himself  upon  a  balk  of  timber  where  he  could  read 
his  precious  letter  in  quiet. 

*^Lieher  Johann/^  it  ran,  "I  am  shame-red  to  write 
you  this  letter."  The  soldier's  eyes  opened  a  shade 
wider,  his  jaw  dropped  at  this  Inauspicious  begin- 
ning.  He  read  on,  tortured  by  apprehension.    "The 


THE  IRON  CROSS  25B 

Lomenwirfs  ^  Franz  is  back  In  the  village  and  is  no 
more  a  soldier.  Since  he  lost  his  right  arm  they  let 
him  go.  The  Lowenwirt  and  my  father  have  been 
laying  their  heads  together  and  they  want  me  to 
marry  Franz.  The  Lowenwirt  wants  to  hand  over 
the  inn  to  Franz  and  me.  Lieher  Johann,  I  do  not 
want  to  do  this,  for  Franz  has  only  one  arm  and 
cannot  even  dress  himself  properly,  but  he  has  the 
Iron  Cross  and  everybody  says  he  is  a  hero.  My 
father  says  I  ought  to  be  proud  to  marry  him,  for, 
except  the  Schdfer^s  Reinhart,  Franz  is  the  only  man 
alive  of  the  village  who  has  the  Iron  Cross.  Father 
says  he  cannot  understand  why  you,  who  have  been 
at  the  Front  so  long,  have  not  won  the  Iron  Cross." 

Salzmann's  expression  changed  slightly  as  he  re- 
called the  dour  old  miller,  who  had  himself  been 
decorated  in  the  war  of  1870. 

"The  parson  preached  a  sermon  last  Sunday  when 
Franz  came  back  to  the  village  and  he  said  that  the 
Iron  Cross  was  the  symbol  of  the  iron  but  modest 
bravery  of  the  German  people,  and  that  every  Ger- 
man soldier  ought  to  have  one.  My  father  was 
there  and  he  said  afterward  that  every  German  sol- 
dier who  had  just  done  his  duty  had  got  one ;  that  it 
was  not  like  the  days  of  1870,  when  you  had  to  do 
something  fine  to  win  it,  and  that  it  was  a  disgrace 

^  Lowenwirt— the  keeper  of  the  Lion  Inn.  The  innkeeper  is  a 
person  of  much  importance  in  German  village  communities.  He 
is  never  referred  to  by  his  own  name,  but  always  as  the  keeper 
of  such  and  such  a  house — the  Lowenwirt,  the  Sonnenwirt,  and 
so  on. 


264  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

not  to  have  one,  and  that  he  would  not  marry  his 
daughter  to  a  man  who  had  been  all  through  the 
war  and  was  not  decorated.  So,  lieber  Johann,  you 
must  win  the  Iron  Cross  quickly,  because  they  say 
the  war  is  going  to  end,  and  my  ^ather  will  marry 
me  to  Franz  almost  at  once." 

**Ach!  Vngliicklicherr^  exclaimed  Salzmann  In  a 
tone  of  heartfelt  self-commiseration.  Long  hum- 
bled as  he  had  been  by  the  scorn  of  his  quick-witted 
comrades  he  was  Intelligent  enough  to  appreciate  his 
betrothed's  naive  recommendation  as  a  bitter  irony. 

The  Iron  Cross!  He  had  no  illusions  as  to  his 
own  military  virtues;  was.  In  fact,  emphatically  cer- 
tain that  nothing  would  induce  him  to  risk  his  skin 
beyond  the  common  everyday  perils  he  could  not  es- 
cape. In  battle  his  one  thought  was  to  get  into  a 
place  of  safety  as  soon  as  possible.  No  one  looked 
for  deeds  of  valour  from  him;  least  of  all,  himself. 
He  was  forced  on  by  an  even  greater  fear  than  that 
which  he  stumbled  to  encounter — the  fear  of  his  offi- 
cer's pistol,  of  certain  death  If  he  wavered.  As  for 
awarding  him  the  Iron  Cross,  the  entire  battalion 
would  have  shouted  with  laughter  at  the  mere  sug- 
gestion. He  was  only  too  acutely  aware  of  it.  The 
pitiful  swagger  with  which  he  bragged  of  his  ability 
to  look  after  himself  was  the  last  cloak  he  could 
wrap  about  his  ragged  self-esteem. 

If  the  miller's  Gretel  could  be  won  only  by  the 
Iron  Cross,  then  his  suit  was  hopeless.  And  It  was 
such  a  splendid  mill  I    How  often  had  he  visualised 


THE  IRON  CROSS  255 

himself  as  the  flour-dusty  proprietor — for  surely 
Gretel  would  inherit — smoking  the  long  pipe  of 
worthy  contentment  on  the  little  bench  which  over- 
looked the  dripping  water  wheel,  indefatigable  in 
grinding  out  wealth  for  him!  Gretel  was  pretty, 
too,  and  her  simple-minded  pride  in  her  soldier  lover 
had  been  particularly  precious  to  him.  He  sighed 
heavily  as  he  renounced  all  this.  The  Iron  Cross  I 
He  cursed  bitterly  and  comprehensively. 

His  gloomy  disappointment  was  relieved  only  by 
his  betrothed's  mention  of  an  early  peace.  He  seized 
on  that  hopefully.  Certainly  the  fighting  here  had 
long  since  ceased.  Up  to  a  week  before,  the  Rus- 
sian soldiers  had  been  fraternizing  between  the  lines. 
Since,  though  they  had  remained  in  their  trenches, 
no  shot  had  been  fired.  Possibly  a  general  peace  was 
really  in  discussion;  191 4,  191 5,  191 6,  19 17 — ^the 
whole  world  must  be  as  tired  of  this  as  he  was. 
Gretel  or  no  Gretel,  it  was  something  to  come  out 
of  it  alive  I  He  cheerfully  abandoned  the  Iron  Cross 
in  the  prospect. 

At  this  point  the  course  of  his  meditation  was  in- 
terrupted. The  wail  of  an  approaching  shell  star- 
tled the  entire  trenchful  of  idling  men;  sent  them 
dashing  to  cover  as  its  note  changed  to  the  hissing 
rush  of  its  arrival.  It  burst  with  a  metallic  crash. 
Before  their  ears  had  lost  the  sound  the  wail  of  a 
second  shell  rapidly  descended  from  its  distant  high 
note  to  the  ugly  menace  of  its  fall,  the  viciously  vio- 


256  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

lent  detonation  of  its  impact.  A  third— and  a 
fourth ! 

What  was  happening?  The  German  soldiers, 
habituated  to  the  informal  truce,  asked  each  other 
the  question  angrily,  wild-eyed.  In  a  telephone  dug- 
out an  artillery  officer  spoke  irritably  to  his  battery: 

"X  25;  C  2,  4.  These  people  are  forgetting 
themselves.    Give  them  a  dozen  rounds  battery  fire." 

A  moment  or  two  later  a  run  of  dull  reports  be- 
hind them  told  of  the  answer  of  the  guns.  Almost 
simultaneously  with  the  sound  the  shells  rushed  over- 
head, one  after  the  other  at  the  briefest  interval, 
vindictively  hastening  to  silence  this  presumptuous 
Russian  battery.  That  battery,  however,  declined 
to  be  overawed.  Its  shells  continued  to  fall  in  the 
trench  or  its  near  vicinity,  arriving  with  a  deliberate 
regularity  which  hinted  at  a  definite  purpose. 

Other  batteries,  veiled  in  the  deepening  dusk  of 
the  east,  awoke  as  if  in  sympathy,  their  quickly  reit- 
erated reports  strangely  impressive  after  the  silence 
which  had  been  maintained  so  long.  Their  shells 
fell  more  and  more  frequently  over  a  fairly  wide 
sector  of  the  trenches.  The  German  battery  having 
discharged  its  dozen  rounds  cease4  fire.  But  the 
bombardment  of  the  trenches  continued,  became 
more  and  more  intense.  It  was  as  heavy  a  bom- 
bardment as  the  poorly  supplied  Russian  artillery 
could  ever  pretend  to. 

In  his  dugout  the  battalion  commander,  annoyed 
and  puzzled  by  this  unexpected  revival  of  an  enemy 


THE  IRON  CROSS  257 

he  had  grown  accustomed  almost  to  ignore,  took 
counsel  with  the  artillery  officer. 

**What  are  they  playing  at?'*  he  asked.  "Surely 
they  can't  be  going  to  attack!" 

"Probably  they  have  found  a  few  rounds  of  am- 
munition and  are  getting  rid  of  it,  Herr  Major** 
replied  the  artillery  officer.  "They  can't  keep  it  up 
long,  for  they  certainly  cannot  have  much.  As  for 
attack" — he  laughed  contemptuously — "the  Russian 
infantry  will  not  attack  again  in  this  war." 

*^Gewiss  nicht/*  agreed  the  major.  "Only  a  week 
ago  they  were  out  between  the  trenches  selling  their 
rifles  to  our  men.  But  still" — he  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment, listening  to  the  persistent  slamming  of  the 
Russian  guns,  the  heavy  crashes  of  the  repeated  shell 
bursts  near  at  hand — "this  sounds  as  though  they 
meant  something." 

"I  will  soon  stop  it,"  said  the  artillery  officer, 
picking  up  the  telephone.  "Hello  I  Give  me  artil- 
lery headquarters.  .  .  .  Hello!  .  .  .  Eh?  .  .  .  Yes; 
speaking.  .  .  .  Yes ;  that  is  just  what  I  was  going  to 
speak  to  you  about.  They've  gone  mad,  I  think.  .  .  . 
Oh,  all  right,  I'll  speak  to  the  OberstJ*  His  tone 
changed  to  one  of  subservient  respect.  "/^,  Herr 
Oberst,  almost  all  their  batteries  firing.  .  .  .  No,  I 
don't  think  so.  They  have  lost  their  heads  over 
something.  I  suggest  a  drastic  lesson,  Herr  Oberst. 
Show  them  our  guns  are  still  here.  ,  ,  .  Ja,  ja — 
famos!  A  few  salvos  on  the  trenches  might  be  use- 
ful— ^make  trouble  between  their  infantry  and  their 


258  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

gunners.  Jch-jawohir  He  laughed.  'Tortrefflich! 
Gute  Nacht,  Herr  OherstT 

He  put  down  the  receiver  and  turned  to  the  bat- 
talion commander. 

"You  are  going  to  see  the  surprise  of  your  life, 
Herr  Major,  Every  gun  weVe  got.  Let  them  have 
It  all  at  once.  Teach  them  politeness.  They  will  not 
worry  you  again  for  a  long  time." 

"Good,"  said  the  battalion  commander.  "But  I 
hope  they  are  not  going  to  attack.  The  sector  Is  very 
thinly  held." 

The  artillery  officer  laughed. 

"Their  generals  may  order  an  attack,  Herr  Ma- 
jor, but  their  men  simply  refuse  to  fight.  WeVe 
seen  it  often  enough.  Of  course,"  he  added  In  a 
tone  of  mockery,  "there's  that  battalion  of  women 
which  has  been  parading  Petrograd;  perhaps  they 
are  going  to  try  with  that?" 

Both  officers  laughed  at  this  reduction  to  absurd- 
ity. For  a  long  time  the  chief  danger  from  the  Rus- 
sian Army  had  been  excessive  fraternisation.  The 
German  authorities  were  very  nervous  of  the  an- 
archic propaganda  enthusiastically  preached  by  the 
Russian  soldiers,  however  contemptuous  they  might 
be  of  them  in  other  respects.  Every  German  officer 
on  the  sector  had  been  glad  of  the  recent  cessation 
of  Intercourse. 

The  fighting  power  of  the  Russian  Army  was 
notoriously  a  thing  of  the  past.    This  fantastic  bom- 


THE  IRON  CROSS  259 

bardment  was  merely  another  symptom  of  the  mad- 
ness to  which  It  had  succumbed. 

The  two  officers  listened  for  the  opening  of  their 
own  artillery. 

In  a  dugout  of  the  trench  parapet  Salzmann  In- 
terrogated his  companions  between  the  crashes  of 
the  Russian  shells. 

*'What  Is  It?"  he  cried.  "Are  they  going  to  at- 
tack? I  thought  they  had  no  more  shells?  The 
Leutnant  said  so  the  other  day!  Ach!  There's  an- 
other! Where  did  that  one  go?  That's  In  the 
trench,  that  one!  Do  you  think  they  are  going  to 
attack,  Weissenbach? 

**NaturlichF*  said  Weissenbach,  grinning  at  his 
companions  despite  the  uneasiness  which  they  all  felt. 
"Haven't  you  heard  about  it?  This  is  the  prelim- 
inary bombardment  for  a  great  offensive.  The  Rus- 
sians are  going  to  bombard  us  for  a  week  like  this 
and  then  they  are  going  to  march  through  to  Berlin 
and  set  up  a  republic  like  their  own.  The  muzhiks 
were  all  talking  about  it  last  week;  nicht  wahr,  you 
others?" 

There  was  a  chorus  of  laughing  assent. 

**Ach!'*  cried  Salzmann  In  genuine  alarm.  "They 
can  do  what  they  like  about  their  republic;  It's  all 
one  to  me.  But  bombard  us  like  this  for  a  week  I 
Aher,  Weissenbach,"  he  said  with  serious  solemnity, 
"we  shall  all  be  killed!" 

The  others  forgot  the  bombardment  in  their 
laughter.     Salzmann  was  priceless. 


260  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

*'More  than  that,"  cried  Griinbaum;  '*the  Haupt- 
mann  said  he  was  going  to  see  to  it  that  this  time 
Salzmann  won  the  Iron  Cross — or  was  killed  in  the 
attempt.  He  says  it's  a  disgrace  to  the  regiment  that 
a  man  who  has  been  in  it  since  19 14  has  not  won  the 
cross.  So  you  are  certainly  going  to  get  the  Iron 
Cross,  Salzmann;  or  else  a  wooden  one!" 

The  squad  shouted  with  delight,  all  eagerly  cor- 
roborating this  happy  invention,  adding  confirma- 
tory details. 

**To  the  devil  with  the  Iron  Cross!'*  cried  their 
butt,  frantic  with  fear  at  the  possibilities  which 
opened  up  before  him.  He  broke  into  a  flood  of 
foul  curses,  in  which  the  Hauptmann,  his  comrades, 
their  decorations,  were  all  equally  vituperated. 

His  tormentors  wiped  tears  of  laughter  from  their 
eyes.  Suddenly  they  ceased  in  their  mirth,  looked 
up,  startled. 

"Listen!"  cried  some  one. 

In  one  long  rolling  crash  hundreds  of  guns  had 
opened  fire,  were  maintaining  it  in  rapid  repetition. 
Overhead,  flights  of  shells  howled  on  their  way  to 
the  Russians. 

"Our  guns!"  cried  another  in  relief.  "The 
muzhiks  will  soon  remember  they  have  an  appoint- 
ment to  make  a  speech  at  their  Soviet!" 

^^GewissF*  said  a  third.  "Besides,  they  can't  have 
much  more  ammunition." 

"So  long  as  they  cease  shelling!"  cried  Salzmann, 


THE  IRON  CROSS  261 

who  had  retreated  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the 
dugout 

But  though  the  thunder  of  the  German  guns  con- 
tinued unabated,  the  stream  of  their  projectiles  tear- 
ing across  the  sky  undiminished,  the  Russian  bat- 
teries still  persisted  in  their  fire.  The  crashes  of 
their  shells  followed  one  another  with  unfailing  reg- 
ularity. 

The  din  of  these  warring  artilleries  had  lasted  for 
some  time  when  suddenly  whistles  shrilled  in  the 
trench  above.  The  group  in  the  dugout  looked  at 
each  other  in  surprise.    It  was  the  alarm  I 

"An  attack!"  cried  some  one.  "After  all  I 
HerauSy  Salzmann!    Go  out  for  your  Iron  Cross!" 

The  speaker  saw  to  it  that  the  unhappy  Salzmann 
cleared  out  with  the  rest,  and  amid  renewed  laughter 
the  squad  scrambled  up  the  stairway  into  the  trench. 

It  was  now  quite  dark,  a  night  of  stars.  The  Rus- 
sian shells  were  still  bursting  round  in  sudden 
splashes  of  red  flame,  despite  a  most  furious  can- 
nonade from  the  German  artillery  working  fren- 
ziedly  to  beat  down  the  hostile  fire.  To  the  east 
the  dark  horizon  was  lit  by  the  frequent  leaping 
reflections  from  the  Russian  guns.  But  on  the  sky 
behind  the  men  now  lining  the  trench  there  was  no 
interval  in  the  illumination  from  the  ceaseless  dis- 
charges. Both  artilleries  were  working  at  their  full 
power  and  the  disproportion  between  their  strengths 
was  comfortingly  obvious  to  the  German  soldiers. 

They  sprang  with  alacrity  to  their  positions  of 


S^  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

•defence.  The  machine-gun  crews  joked  as  they 
opened  their  boxes  of  ammunition  and  fitted  the 
belts.  Grenades  were  served  out  lavishly.  There 
^was  a  clicking  of  rifle  bolts.  Flares  began  to  soar 
\ip  along  the  line  of  trenches.  A  searchlight  wav- 
ered for  a  moment,  flickered,  was  extinguished,  shot 
out  its  beam  of  light  again  in  a  swinging  arc,  disap- 
peared. The  deafening  crash  and  roll  of  the  artil- 
lery fire  seemed  to  increase  permanently  as  it  leaped 
to  paroxysms  of  vehemence. 

Salzmann  found  himself  on  the  fire  step,  rifle  ready 
to  his  hand,  gazing  out  across  the  neutral  ground. 
Over  the  Russian  trenches  the  shrapnel  twinkled 
incessantly.  Founts  of  bright  flame  sprang  up  from 
the  impact  of  high-explosive  shells  upon  the  enemy 
works,  the  crash  of  their  detonation  distinctly  audi- 
ble through  the  din.  Half  paralysed  by  the  fear  of 
the  shrapnel  which  cracked  and  moaned  above  his 
head  also,  he  stared  into  the  night,  agonising  for 
his  first  perception  of  the  dim  human  flood  which 
would  presently  surge  against  him.  He  remembered 
sickeningly  the  terrible  bayonets  of  a  Russian  charge. 
Several  times  already  in  his  experience  he  had  es- 
caped them  only  by  a  miracle,  had  heard  the  death 
shrieks  of  his  less  fortunate  comrades.  He  fin- 
gered his  trigger  nervously,  ready  to  fire  at  the  first 
sign  of  the  enemy,  straining  his  sight  into  the  radi- 
ance of  the  falling  flares. 

*^Sie  kommenr  shouted  some  one  a  little  farther 
along  the  trench.    He  heard  the  curt  commands  of 


THE  IRON  CROSS  «6S 

the  officers  behind  him,  the  final  order.  In  one 
simultaneous  crash  a  long  coruscation  of  short  stab- 
bing flames  leaped  from  the  parapet,  a  crash  that 
resolved  itself  into  the  tireless  hammering  of  ma- 
chine guns,  the  irregular  reports  of  rifles;  now  swell- 
ing as  they  chanced  to  coalesce,  now  scattered  indi- 
vidually in  rapid  independent  fire. 

Salzmann  pulled  trigger  with  the  others,  though 
at  first  he  could  discern  no  target.  A  whelm  of 
shell  smoke  overlay  the  neutral  ground,  thickened 
the  obscurity  of  the  ni^t,  swallowed  the  flares 
as  they  fell.  Into  that  smother  plunged  an  un- 
ceasing rain  of  German  shells  that  lit  luridly  for 
a  brief  instant  ere  they  added  to  the  rolling  fumes. 
The  Russian  batteries  hurled  shell  after  shell  be- 
hind him,  apparently  lengthening  their  range. 

From  that  bank  of  smoke  came  at  last  a  tumult 
of  voices,  shouts  and  cheers  that  overpowered  the 
shriek  of  sudden  agony.  Curiously  high  pitched, 
these  voices. 

"They  must  be  boys,"  thought  Salzmann  as  he 
fired  toward  the  sound.  The  shouts  and  cheers  con- 
tinued, swelled  louder  despite  the  chaos  of  brutally 
violent  noise,  thudding,  crashing,  hammering,  every 
kind  of  explosion,  which  erupted  on  that  dark  coun- 
tryside and  rolled  under  the  stars.  These  voices 
of  human  creatures,  dwarfed  but  undaunted  in  this 
immense  fury  of  pitiless  destruction,  persisted,  not 
to  be  hushed,  curiously  impressive. 

Suddenly  they  emerged  from  the  smoke,  shadowy 


264i  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

but  startllngly  close;  a  crowd  of  running  figures 
whose  faces  were  plucked  into  a  momentary  vivid- 
ness by  near  flashes,  their  bayonets  silhouetted  above 
their  heads,  dark  against  the  sky.  They  raced  to- 
ward him  with  such  fierce  determination  that  those 
who  fell  were  lost  out  of  memory  in  an  instant, 
their  places  filled.  Their  piercing  cries,  their  high- 
pitched  cheers  had  an  uncanny  suggestion  of  the 
unfamiliar,  a  hint  of  the  spectral,  which  sent  a 
spasm  of  wild  alarm  through  Salzmann's  unsteady 
nerves. 

"Boys!"  he  cried,  to  reassure  himself. 

The  guttural  exclamations  of  the  German  soldiers 
firing  furiously  into  the  mass  were  comforting  in 
their  normality.  Despite  the  blast  of  rifle  fire  from 
the  parapet,  the  incessant  explosions  of  the  shells 
in  the  neutral  ground,  the  shadowy  figures  came 
rapidly  nearer  through  moments  that  were  long  as 
hours.  Never  had  Salzmann  seen  such  a  formida- 
ble charge ;  its  swift,  unchecked  approach  in  the  face 
of  that  devastating  fire  was  a  miracle  that,  accom- 
panied by  the  wild  phantasmal  treble  of  its  tumult 
of  cheers,  appalled  him  with  a  vague,  superstitious 
fear.  He  fired  his  rifle  into  it  desperately,  yet  with- 
out hope  of  staying  it. 

Another  anxiety  re-enforced  his  dread.  The  wire  I 
It  had  been  cut  to  allow  passage  for  the  men  fra- 
ternizing with  the  Russians,  and  had  not  been  re- 
paired; partly  because  of  the  paucity  of  available 
labour  on  this  thinly  held  sector,  partly  because  the 


THE  IRON  CROSS  265 

effort  was  thought  to  be  unnecessary.  The  last  of 
his  confidence  forsook  him  with  the  realisation.  In 
another  instant  the  mysterious  attackers  were  surg- 
ing up  against  the  parapet,  were  upon  him. 

He  fired  his  rifle  once  more  into  a  face  he  saw 
with  the  flash  to  be  beardless.  Then  the  man  on 
his  right  shrieked  as  a  dark  figure  on  the  parapet 
plunged  its  bayonet  downward.  In  the  same  frac- 
tion of  a  second  he  saw  a  sliver  of  steel  dart  at  his 
own  breast  as  he  stood  exposed,  recoiling  in  terror. 
In  one  instinctive  movement  he  dropped  his  rifle, 
leaped  backward  into  the  trench,  fled.  Behind  him 
the  high-pitched  voices  shrilled  out,  demoniac,  domi- 
nating the  suddenly  vehement  guttural  curses  in  an 
inferno  of  detonations. 

He  dashed  along  the  trench,  noting  unconsciously 
the  wide-spaced  figures  of  the  defenders,  still  crouch- 
ing as  they  gazed  along  the  sights  or  wrestling  body 
to  body  with  dark  figures  that  overtopped  them.  At 
the  mouth  of  the  communication  trench  he  was  auto- 
matically seeking  he  saw  his  ofiicer.  In  a  spasm  of 
horror,  too  late  for  defence,  he  saw  the  officer's 
hand  jerk  up,  the  pistol  point.  The  flash  and  crack 
were  simultaneous.  Missed!  He  dodged,  flung 
himself  headlong  into  the  communication  trench.  As 
he  sprawled  he  heard  the  death  yell  of  the  officer. 

On  his  feet  again  he  raced  along  the  communica- 
tion trench  blindly,  like  a  hunted  animal.  He  met 
no  one.  Every  available  man  was  in  the  fire  trench. 
There  were  no  supports,  he  knew  well;  no  adjacent 


^66  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

reserves.  The  sector  had  been  stripped  to  send  re- 
enforcements  to  Flanders.  He  might  get  clear  away. 
The  possibility  invigorated  him.  A  deafening  crash 
just  at  his  right  renewed  his  alarm,  quickened  his 
mad  flight.  Those  cursed  Russian  batteries  were 
still  firing,  were  putting  down  a  screen  of  shells  be- 
hind the  fight.     Crash  followed  crash.    He  ran  on. 

He  emerged  into  an  empty  support  trench  and 
turned  to  follow  it.  A  sheet  of  red  flame  sprang 
up  from  the  lip  of  its  trace.  He  half-heard  a  shat- 
tering roar. 

When  his  eyes  opened  he  saw  that  the  trench  was 
filled  with  men.  He  staggered  to  his  feet ;  noted,  as 
his  first  sensation,  an  impressive  unbroken  quiet  that 
contrasted  with  something.  He  remembered;  took 
in  the  situation.  The  Russians  were  in  possession 
of  the  front  trenches.  This  was  the  counter  attack, 
ready  to  spring.  Both  artilleries  had  paused.  In 
another  moment,  perhaps,  the  battle  would  com- 
mence again.  He  glanced  along  the  rank  of  men. 
There  was  no  escape.  He  was  trapped.  He  re- 
signed himself  hopelessly,  trying  to  think  of  a  plausi- 
ble excuse  to  account  for  himself. 

Two  oflicers  walked  up  toward  him  in  deep  con- 
versation. Despite  the  gloom  he  recognised  one  of 
them.  It  was  the  Oberst  commanding  the  sector. 
The  other  was  evidently  the  leader  of  the  troops 
about  to  counter  attack.  They  stopped  by  the  mouth 
of  the  communication  trench. 

"I  can't  understand  it  at  all,"  said  the  Oberst. 


THE  IRON  CROSS  26T 

"Who  are  these  people?  They  are  certainly  not  the 
Infantry  usually  on  this  sector.'* 

"New  troops  evidently,  Herr  Oh  erst"  said  the 
other,  suavely  concurring  with  his  superior.  There 
was,  nevertheless,  a  note  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"None  of  our  people  seem  to  have  escaped,"  pur- 
sued the  Oberst,  tapping  irritably  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot  upon  the  earth.  He  frowned  round  him.  "All 
killed  or  prisoners."  He  caught  sight  of  Salzmann. 
"Who  are  you?"  he  asked  with  sudden  brutality. 

Salzmann  quivering  with  terror  stood  sharply  to 
attention  as  he  named  his  regiment. 

*'Sof*  said  the  Oherst  with  quickened  interest. 
He  turned  to  the  other  officer.  "Here  is  a  survivor, 
Brunnendorf !"  He  reverted  to  the  trembling  man. 
"What  happened?  Who  are  these  Russians?  Why 
are  you  here?"  he  questioned  angrily. 

Salzmann  launched  out  into  a  long,  incoherent 
story,  in  which  it  was  only  clear  that  he  had  seen 
the  attack,  that  he  thought  they  were  boys,  and  that 
a  shell  had  knocked  him  senseless.  The  Oherst  eyed 
him  with  frowning  suspicion. 

*'Genugr*  he  interrupted  harshly.  Salzmann 
ceased  to  stammer;  stood  shaking  with  apprehen- 
sion. The  Oherst  pondered  a  moment,  then  looked 
at  his  watch.    Once  more  he  turned  to  the  soldier. 

"Your  name  and  number?"  he  snapped. 

Salzmann  gave  them,  feeling  that  his  fate  was 
sealed. 

"Note  them,  Brunnendorf !"  said  the  Oherst  to 


268  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  other  officer.  "Now,  my  man,  go  into  the  front 
trench  and  find  out  who  those  people  are!  Bring 
me  back  an  identity  disk  or  something  of  the  sort. 
You  have  Rve  minutes.  At  the  end  of  that  time  our 
artillery  will  commence  its  bombardment.  If  you 
succeed  you  shall  have  the  Iron  Cross.  If  you  fail 
you  will  be  shot  for  deserting  your  post!  You  un- 
derstand?" Salzmann's  mouth  opened,  moved,  but 
emitted  no  sound.    "Go!" 

Salzmann  saluted  speechlessly. 

As  he  disappeared  the  officer  in  command  of  the 
counter  attack  smiled  grimly. 

"They  have  killed  every  one  of  my  reconnoitering 
parties,  Herr  Oberst/^  he  said. 

The  Oherst  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  proceeded 
to  detail  his  arrangements  for  supporting  the  attack. 

Salzmann  crept  along  the  empty  communication 
trench,  his  mouth  dry,  shaking  in  every  limb.  At 
each  bend  in  the  serpentine  course  of  the  trench  he 
hesitated,  pressed  close,  hands  outsplayed,  against 
the  wall.  Beyond?  Only  the  fear,  the  certainty, 
of  that  dreadful  firing  party  drove  him  forward. 
He  had  one  forlorn  chance.  He  murmured  it  to 
himself  desperately  between  his  gusts  of  panic.  If 
only  he  could  find  a  dead  Russian! 

Cautiously  he  stole  round  a  curve  of  the  trench. 
Then  before  he  could  make  a  movement  or  utter 
a  sound  a  couple  of  dark  figures  leaped  at  him,  a 
terrible  clutch  fastened  itself  on  his  throat,  bore 
him  backward  to  the  ground.     Choking,  seeing  the 


THE  IRON  CROSS  269 

stars  sway  in  the  sky  as  he  stared  upward,  he  felt 
a  heavy  weight  on  his  chest.  One  of  the  figures  had 
seated  himself  on  him.  He  felt  a  smaller  area  of 
pressure  over  his  heart,  and  then  the  point  of  a 
knife  sharply  penetrating  his  skin.  His  scream  of 
terror  was  only  a  gurgle  under  that  clutch  on  his 
throat.  But  the  point  came  no  deeper,  remained  an 
acute  tiny  prick  threatening  his  life.  Almost  faint- 
ing he  heard  a  whispered  conversation.  He  guessed 
its  purport,  agonised  for  the  decision.  Before  he 
realised  that  it  was  made  he  found  a  gag  stuffed 
into  his  mouth,  felt  himself  vigorously  turned  over 
onto  his  face,  his  hands  drawn  back  and  securely  tied 
behind  him.    He  made  not  the  least  resistance. 

"Up!"  whispered  an  earnest  voice  in  German. 
"Silence!" 

He  struggled  awkwardly  to  his  feet  and  looked 
at  his  captors.  They  also  were  the  beardless  boys 
he  had  seen  rushing  to  the  storm  of  the  parapet. 
Too  bewildered  to  give  more  than  a  passing  thought 
to  their  youth,  he  felt  himself  pushed  forward  by  a 
firm  grip  on  the  back  of  his  collar.  He  went  do- 
cilely, one  only  of  his  captors  accompanying  him. 

They  passed  quickly  down  the  communication 
trench  and  turned  into  the  familiar  front  line.  A 
number  of  busy  figures  thronged  it,  strengthening 
the  parados,  adjusting  machine  guns,  making  ready 
to  repel  the  certain  attack.  His  brain  still  numbed 
with  terror  he  scarcely  noticed  them.  Suddenly  his 
captor  halted  before  the  mouth  of  a  dugout  and 


270  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

thrust  him  down  the  steep  steps.  He  stumbled  with 
uncertain  equilibrium  into  a  little  square  cave  lit 
by  a  candle  on  a  table.  His  captor,  still  maintain- 
ing his  grasp,  followed. 

Three  young  men — officers  evidently — ^were 
seated  at  that  table.  They  looked  up  at  his  entrance 
and  nodded  to  the  salute  of  his  captor.  They  were 
very  young — not  one  had  so  much  as  a  wisp  of 
moustache — but  their  expression  was  both  intelligent 
and  determined.  All  three  had  laid  aside  their  caps, 
and  the  close  crop  of  their  hair,  revealing  the  power- 
ful conformation  of  the  skull,  lent  a  certain  naked 
force  to  their  aspect. 

The  soldier  reported  in  Russian,  unintelligible  to 
Salzmann. 

One  of  the  officers — he  noted  that  it  was  a  cap- 
tain— nodded  understanding  with  a  smile,  replied 
rapidly  in  his  incomprehensible  Russian,  finished  in 
the  tone  of  an  order.  He  felt  fingers  behind  his 
head;  the  gag  was  whipped  off.  The  captain 
frowned  at  him. 

"What  regiment  are  you?"  he  asked  sternly  in 
his  boyish  voice.  His  German  was  excellently  pro- 
nounced. 

Salzmann  stammered  out  the  information,  finish- 
ing with  an  obsequious  *^Herr  HauptmannJ* 

*'Sof    And  your  errand?" 

Salzmann  hesitated  for  a  moment  while  he  en- 
deavoured to  decide  whether  he  should  tell  the  truth 
or  invent  a  story. 


THE  IRON  CROSS  271 

"Answer!"  The  captain  produced  a  big  auto- 
matic pistol  and  dangled  It  in  his  hand.  His  eyes 
were  affrightlngly  stern.     "Quick,  or " 

He  raised  the  pistol  till  Salzmann  found  himself 
staring  fascinated  into  the  little  round  black  hole 
of  the  muzzle. 

"I — I  came  to  reconnoitre,  Herr  Hauptmann,* 
he  said  hurriedly.  This  uncompromising  young  of- 
ficer evidently  belonged  to  the  genuine  caste,  obedi- 
ence to  which  was  an  unquestioned  Instinct.  "The 
Oh  erst  sent  me " 

"Go  on!"  The  officer  tapped  Impatiently  on  the 
table  with  his  left  hand,  that  terrible  pistol  still 
poised  in  his  right. 

" — —  to  find  out  what  regiment  it  was  that  at- 
tacked, Herr  Hauptmann/^  The  sweat  was  pearling 
on  his  forehead. 

The  captain  exchanged  a  smile  with  his  officers. 
The  smile,  curiously  enigmatic,  It  seemed  to  Salz- 
mann, was  still  upon  his  face  as  he  turned  again  to 
the  prisoner. 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  not  have  the  honour  of  re- 
porting to  him,"  he  said  with  a  subtle  mockery  in 
his  clear,  level  voice,  "that  it  was  the  Battalion  of 
Death — the  women's  battalion — which  captured  his 
trenches." 

"Women!"  Salzmann  stared  in  amazement. 
These  boys — women !     *^Du  lieber  GottP* 

The  smile  on  the  captain's  face  broadened  at  the 
na'iVete  of  his  exclamation. 


^72  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Yes — women!"  There  was  a  certain  pride  in 
the  utterance. 

Salzmann  stared  into  the  officer's  face,  forgetting 
the  pistol,  forgetting  his  position  in  his  curiosity. 
Yes — it  was  a  woman's  face  that  looked  into  his,  a 
woman's  face  of  soft  curves,  of  eyes  that  changed 
expression  at  every  instant.  He  took  a  long  breath 
of  relief,  smiled  fatuously.  He  always  felt  himself 
very  much  at  ease  with  women;  had  many  conquests, 
of  a  sort,  to  set  off  against  his  humiliations  in  the 
world  of  men.  He  smirked,  ventured  an  ironical 
compliment,  an  awkward  bow. 

"Women ! — Gratuliere,  gnddige  FrauF^ 

"Silence !"  The  voice  was  not  less  stern  because 
it  was  feminine.  Salzmann's  new-found  assurance 
vanished  in  a  spasm  of  alarm.  That  terrible  pistol 
still  covered  him.     "Answer  my  questions  1" 

**Ja,  Herr — Frau — Hauptmannr^  he  stumbled, 
uncertain  of  the  correct  designation. 

There  was  no  longer  any  smile  on  the  face  of 
the  amazon. 

"Your  troops  are  going  to  counter  attack?"  she 
queried. 

**Ja,  Herr  HauptmannF*  He  decided  that  the 
masculine  title  was  more  polite. 

"When?" 

"I  don't  know!"  The  lie  had  slipped  out  un- 
consciously; the  result  of  a  lifelong  habit  of  care- 
lessness with  the  truth.     His  own  words  were  a 


THE  IRON  CROSS  ^S 

shock  to  him.     This  was  dangerous.    But,  once  uU 
tered,  he  must  stick  to  his  assertion. 

"You  don't  know?'* 

"No,  I  swear  it,  Herr  Hauptmannf*^  He  agon- 
ised at  the  least  movement  of  the  hand  that  held 
the  pistol. 

The  captain  turned  to  her  companion  and  con- 
ferred for  a  moment  in  Russian.  Then  she  ad- 
dressed herself  to  his  captor — "A  woman,  also,^ 
lieber  GottF*  thought  Salzmann.  The  soldier — she 
was  little  more  than  a  girl — had  been  standing  stiffly 
in  silence  during  this  colloquy.  She  now  saluted  in 
precise  military  fashion,  turned  and  went  out  of  the 
dugout.  Salzmann  heard  her  heavily  booted  tread 
ascending  the  stairway. 

The  captain  resumed  her  Interrogation. 

"What  troops  are  there  on  this  sector?"  she  de- 
manded. 

Salzmann  gave  the  information  as  accurately  as 
he  could,  warily  avoiding  the  untruths  which  came 
so  readily  to  his  tongue.  His  eyes  never  quitted  the 
pistol. 

"Their  morale?    Are  they  tired  of  the  war?" 

'*Ach,  ja,  Herr  Hauptmann — terribly  tired." 

"Why  do  they  still  fight?" 

"The  officers,  Herr  Hauptmann;  when  the  officer 
orders " 

His  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  the  face  of  his 
questioner.    This  should  be  a  palatable  presentation 


274  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

of  at  least  a  partial  truth.  He  anxiously  observed 
its  reception. 

The  captain  smiled  slightly.  Her  face  lost  some- 
thing of  its  severity. 

"And  the  revolution?  Would  they  make  a  revo- 
lution if  they  could?" 

**Ach,  ja,  Herr  Hauptmann;  if  they  could  I" 
Salzmann  infused  an  accent  that  appealed  for  sym- 
pathy into  the  earnestness  of  his  tone. 

The  captain  deposited  her  pistol  on  the  table  as 
she  turned  once  more  to  conversation  with  her  com- 
panions. Salzmann's  attention  followed  her.  They 
also  were  women,  these  officers;  one — he  visualised 
her  with  long  hair — really  beautiful  and  refined ;  the 
other,  of  coarser  appearance,  he  instinctively  recog- 
nised as  a  peasant  woman,  of  his  own  class.  What 
were  they  talking  about?  His  arms  ached.  He 
moved  his  wrists,  felt  the  tightness  of  his  bonds. 
If  he  could  only  get  at  that  pistol  I  The  minutes 
were  passing.  The  five  minutes  allotted  must  be 
already  gone. 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  thought,  one  long  deep  roll- 
ing roar,  followed  almost  on  the  instant  by  a  series 
of  heavy,  violent  crashes  just  above,  shook  the  dug- 
out. Earth  dropped  from  the  roof.  The  candle 
went  out.  It  was  lit  again  before  he  could  decide 
himself  to  make  a  dash  for  freedom.  An  expostula- 
tion in  feminine  voices  that  had  commenced  in  the 
dark  continued  in  the  illumination. 

One  of  the  officers,  the  young  and  beautiful  one, 


THE  IRON  CROSS  275 

was  endeavouring  to  reach  the  door  of  the  dugout, 
but  was  held  back  by  the  peasant  woman.  The  cap- 
tain spoke  a  few  words  in  a  tone  of  calm  authority 
and  the  young  woman  seated  herself  again.  Salz- 
mann  gathered  that  a  useless  exposure  to  the  bom- 
bardment outside  had  been  prohibited.  There  was 
clearly  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait. 

Once  more  a  panic  fear  surged  up  in  him.  Crash 
upon  crash,  appallingly  close,  shook  the  earth  with 
rending  violence.  They  would  have  one  in  the  dug- 
out in  a  moment  I  He  twisted  himself  in  an  agony 
of  apprehension,  the  more  alarmed  as  there  would 
not  be  even  the  shortest  warning.  The  wail  and 
rush  of  the  arriving  shells  were  swallowed  in  the 
blast  of  the  explosions,  in  the  dull,  heavy  roar  of 
the  distant  guns.  At  any  moment  a  blinding  flash, 
an  immense  noise,  the  dugout  collapsing.  His  im- 
agination was  painfully  vivid.  The  strength  had 
gone  out  of  his  knees;  his  legs  shook.  He  pulled 
frantically,  arms  behind  his  back,  at  the  lashing  which 
secured  his  wrists. 

^^Bitte,  Herr  Hauptmann,  hitter  he  screamed, 
panting,  wild-eyed  in  his  terror.  "Untie  me  I  Untie 
me!  A  shell  might  come  I  Untie  me  I  I  am  un- 
armed I  For  the  love  of  God,  untie  me  I  I  am  a 
revolutionary  I  I  think  as  you  do  I  Untie  me  I 
Bittel  Bitte!  Herr  Hauptmannf' 

The  three  women  exchanged  a  glance  of  pitying 
contempt.  The  captain  nodded  to  an  appealing  look 
from  the  young  and  beautiful  one.     The  peasant 


^76  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

woman  obviously  demurred,  grumbling;  Salzmann 
hated  her.  The  young  one  got  up  from  her  seat — 
with  exasperating  calm  it  seemed  to  the  wretched 
man  quivering  anew  at  each  recurrent  crash — and 
coolly  unfastened  his  wrists.  He  clutched  at  her 
hand,  kissed  it  in  grovelling  gratitude.  She  shook 
him  off  with  disdain.  He  reeled  against  the  table, 
supported  himself  by  it. 

The  captain  contemplated  him  with  a  scorn  that 
was  not  unmixed  with  amusement.  Masculinity  was 
making  a  poor  exhibition  of  itself.  She  calmly  lit 
a  cigarette  and  puffed  at  it  as  she  crossed  her  legs 
in  an  attitude  of  indifference.  Salzmann  hated  her 
also — in  those  brief  moments  when  an  interval  be- 
tween the  explosions  allowed  him  a  respite  from  his 
brain-paralysing  panic.  From  the  corner  of  his  eye 
he  watched  the  pistol  on  the  table.  He  would  not 
dare  a  direct  look  at  it  lest  his  thought  should  be 
read. 

The  captain  spoke;  she  had  to  shout  to  be  heard 
in  the  din. 

"Why  did  you  come?*'  she  asked  contemptuously. 
"Did  you  volunteer?" 

"/^,  Herr  Hauptmann/*  He  would  have  assented 
to  anything  In  his  present  torment.    "I  volunteered." 

The  lie  was  out.  He  saw  an  expression  of  sur- 
prise flit  across  the  captain's  face. 

"Why?"  she  asked,  obviously  incredulous. 

"They  promised  me  the  Iron  Cross,"  he  said 
piteously. 


THE  IRON  CROSS  nt 

The  young  and  beautiful  one  joined  in  the  cap-^ 
tain's  laughter.  He  hated  her  too.  The  peasant 
woman  looked  inquiringly  at  her  companions.  Ob-- 
viously  she  did  not  understand  German.  There  was 
a  short  explanation  in  rapid  Russian,  and  then  she 
also  laughed.  Salzmann  hated  all  of  them  in  a  fresh 
impulse  of  resentment.  After  all — he  had  been  con- 
scious of  it  while  he  said  it — there  was  something 
heroic  in  his  simple  statement.  Gretel  would  have 
thrilled  to  it.  In  his  exasperation  at  this  perversion 
of  its  effect  he  almost  forgot  the  crashing  thunders 
of  the  bombardment  outside. 

"And  why  did  you  want  the  Iron  Cross?"  asked 
the  captain.  Her  tone  suggested  that  she  was  merely 
whiling  away  this  enforced  wait  rather  than  acutely 
interested. 

A  terrific  detonation  outside  delayed  his  reply. 

"My  sweetheart  wanted  me  to  have  it,"  he  said, 
forcing  himself  to  continue  after  one  wild  glance 
round  the  dugout.  He  hoped  that  this  would  touch 
a  sympathetic  chord. 

The  two  officers  who  understood  German  smiled 
again. 

"Your  sweetheart  wanted  you  to  have  it?"  said 
the  captain,  mockery  in  the  curve  of  her  lips.  "She 
insists  that  you  shall  be  a  hero,  I  suppose?" 

Salzmann  felt  that  justification  was  necessary. 

"She  says  it  is  a  symbol" — he  stopped,  trying  ta 
remember — "a  symbol  of  the  German  people." 

"True  I"  exclaimed  the  young  and  beautiful  one 


278  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

earnestly,  leaning  forward  to  him.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  heard  her  speak  German;  the  tone  of 
her  voice  was  very  rich  and  musical,  even  amid  this 
chaos  of  clashing,  stunning  noise.  Her  eyes  were  as 
earnest  as  her  tone.  He  found  himself  looking  into 
them  with  an  awed  respect.  "It  is  the  symbol  of  the 
German  people — ^the  Iron  Cross !" 

'Vo — jawohir*  assented  Salzmann,  nodding  his 
head  in  a  sincerity  he  meant  to  be  impressive.  An- 
other little  portion  of  his  brain  still  watched  from 
the  corner  of  his  eye  the  pistol  on  the  table. 

"How  true  that  is,  Sonia!'*  continued  the  young 
and  beautiful  one,  turning  to  her  captain,  but  speak- 
ing still  in  German.  "The  symbol  of  the  German 
people  I  The  whole  world  is  stretched  on  an  iron 
cross  of  suffering — a  suffering  deliberately  contem- 
plated by  this  German  people  that  believes  in  the 
moral  majesty  of  war  I" 

She  spoke  rapidly,  with  an  ahnost  mystical  ex- 
altation. The  Slav  temperament,  swift  to  interpret 
the  underlying  significance  of  life,  was  aflame  in 
the  dark,  glowing  eyes  so  incongruous  with  that 
close-cropped  head. 

"And  wonderfully,  all  unconscious  of  its  shame, 
the  German  people  fixes  upon  itself  the  brand  of  its 
sin  against  that  civilisation  which  it  has  crucified! 
The  Iron  Cross  I  The  Iron  Cross  of  vast,  unutter- 
able agony  on  which  humanity  is  dying!  Yes,  it  is 
a  symbol — a  symbol  of  iron  ruthlessness,  of  black 
treachery,  of  the  mockery  of  God!     The  symbol 


THE  IRON  CROSS  279 

of  the  German  people,  fixed  upon  them  by  their  owa 
hands  for  all  time  I"  Her  bosom  heaved  under  the 
tight-fitting  uniform  as  she  finished  in  a  rush  of  in- 
dignant emotion. 

The  German  soldier  stared  at  her,  bewildered, 
only  half-comprehending  this  denunciation,  which  in 
her  earnest  tones  had  such  an  unmistakable  accent 
of  accusing  truth.  Instinctively  he  felt  that  some 
sort  of  defence  devolved  upon  him.  Before  he  could 
frame  one,  another  salvo  of  shattering  crashes  in 
the  adjacent  trench  routed  his  thoughts,  sent  his 
glance  anxiously  round  the  dugout. 

"But — Herr — Frau — Offizier/*  he  said  lamely,  as 
his  alarm  subsided,  "you  yourselves  have  come  to 
war — women!" 

"We  have  come,''  said  the  young  woman  proudly, 
"to  show  the  Russian  men  that  if  they  renounce  the 
battle  against  the  evil  thing — against  this  Germany 
that  poisons  before  it  strikes,  then  we  women  must 
purge  the  world  of  it.  We  will  not  bear  children 
into  it  else!" 

Salzmann  scarcely  heard  her.  He  was  listening 
to  the  bombardment  overhead.  It  had  increased  to 
an  incredible  fury;  crash  merged  into  crash  without 
a  moment's  pause.  A  new  fear  started  up  in  him. 
This  must  be  the  final  hurricane  storm  of  shells  be- 
fore the  counter  attack!  If  that  counter  attack 
came  now — he  had  failed  in  his  mission ! 

This  new  fear  was  a  spur  to  his  brain.  He 
thought  rapidly,  an  inspiration  of  cunning  quicken- 


280  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ing  him.  The  moments  were  few.  His  glance  slid 
sidelong  to  that  unguarded  pistol.  He  must  make 
conversation  until  his  opportunity.  The  captain  was 
still  too  close  to  the  weapon.  He  achieved  a  hag- 
gard smile. 

"But  are  you  not  afraid  of  being  killed?"  he 
asked. 

"Killed?"  echoed  the  young  woman  scornfully. 
"We  are  the  Battalion  of  Death  I  We  are  vowed  to 
die — women  of  every  class.  The  captain  there  is  a 
countess.  This  officer" — she  pointed  to  the  peasant 
woman,  who  sat  scowlingly  ignoring  the  prisoner — 
"is  a  farm  hand.  I  am  a  student.  And  life  holds 
nothing  for  any  of  us  until  the  world  is  purged  of 
all  your  Iron  Cross  symbolised.  Death!"  She 
laughed,  her  beautiful  eyes  in  an  ecstasy.  "See 
this!"  she  produced  a  little  phial.  "That  is  the 
poison  we  all  carry — for  use  if  we  are  taken  pris- 
oners. If  we  fail  in  our  mission  death  is  our  only 
hope!" 

Salzmann  shuddered  at  these  words,  so  ominously 
applicable  to  his  own  situation.  He  listened  anx- 
iously to  the  bombardment.    It  was  slackening.    He 

was  sure  of  it.    A  few  more  moments  and His 

heart  beat  so  violently  that  he  agonised  lest  he 
should  betray  his  desperation. 

The  captain  smiled  scornfully. 

"You  are  wasting  words  on  this  brute,  Anna 
Dmitrievna,"  she  said  in  German.  She  leaned  back 
from  the  table,  blew  a  puff  of  cigarette  smoke  to- 


THE  IRON  CROSS  281 

ward  the  roof,  followed  it  disdainfully  with  her 
eyes. 

On  the  instant  Salzmann  had  leaped  forward, 
snatched  the  pistol  and  fired  straight  into  her  body. 
Before  the  two  others  could  do  more  than  start  from 
their  seats  the  pistol  had  cracked  twice  more.  He 
saw  them  lurch  and  fall  heavily. 

Quick!  Quick!  The  bombardment  had  almost 
ceased.  He  prayed  now  for  another  crash  as  he 
flung  himself  on  his  victims,  rifled  their  pockets, 
stuffed  his  own  full  of  their  papers.  Would  he  yet 
be  in  time?    He  dashed  up  the  stairway. 

The  trench  was  filled  with  choking  fumes.  It  was 
empty  of  any  living  creature  as  far  as  he  could  see. 
Yet  another  shell  pitched  and  flashed  in  a  deafening 
report.  He  raced  along,  tripping  over  prone  bodies 
that  did  not  move  when  he  trod  upon  them.  Be- 
hind him  he  was  conscious  that  people  were  emerg- 
ing from  dugouts,  were  running  to  man  the  defences. 
He  found  the  communication  trench  and  plunged 
into  it. 

Almost  obliterated  as  it  was  by  the  bombardment, 
his  progress  along  it  over  its  heaps  of  loose  earth 
seemed  maddeningly  slow.  In  front  of  him  he  heard 
a  scream,  a  hoarse  German  cheer. 

**Kamerad!  Kameradr*  he  shrieked.  ^'Kam- 
eradr 

A  day  or  two  later  Johann  Salzmann  was  seated 
in  front  of  a  sheet  of  note  paper,  a  stubby  pencil 


282  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

in  his  fingers.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he  spread 
his  elbows  for  the  letter. 

**Schdtzchen**  he  began,  "you  will  be  pleased  to 
know  that  I  have  been  awarded  the  Iron  Cross.  As 
you  say,  it  is  a  symbol  of '* 

He  stopped,  scratching  his  head,  trying  to  remem- 
ber. Of  what,  in  the  devil's  name,  was  it  a  sym- 
bol? 


"and  the  earth  opened  her  mouth — " 


THE  artillery  lieutenant  returned  his  empty  cof- 
fee mug  to  the  table  of  the  battalion  head- 
quarters dugout,  where  he  was  a  guest,  and  glanced 
round  the  interior  with  an  appreciative  eye.  By 
contrast  with  the  front  trench,  where,  as  forward 
observing  officer,  he  was  destined  to  spend  a  drear 
night,  this  deep  square  cave,  roofed  and  walled  with 
balks  of  timber,  lit  by  electricity,  adorned  with  many 
illustrations  from  the  comic  press  and  one  or  two 
framed  pictures  from  a  Flemish  mansion,  carpeted 
and  furnished  with  the  same  barbaric  incongruity, 
fitted  with  all  the  devices  imagined  by  the  successive 
inhabitants  of  more  than  two  and  a  half  years,  was 
the  perfection  of  security  and  comfort. 

**Sehr  bequem,  Kiihlmann,  nicht  wahrf**  he  said, 
with  an  intonation  and  smiling  gesture  of  the  head, 
which  hinted  banteringly  that  the  permanent  inhabi- 
tants of  the  dugout  protected  themselves  well  from 
the  hardships  of  real  soldiering.  "Or  do  you  prefer 
your  mine  shaft?" 

Kiihlmann,  tall,  long-faced,  his  fair  hair  scanty 
to  baldness  on  his  high  brow,  shifted  his  extended 

283 


<S84>  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

legs  as  he  woke  from  a  reverie  that  had  held  his 
glance  fixed  toward  the  floor. 

He  was  in  charge  of  a  countermining  party  at 
work  in  the  vicinity. 

**Ganz  zierlichF*  he  replied  in  a  fluting  drawl, 
quite  unlike  the  accent  of  a  regular  officer.  He  was 
a  mining  engineer  in  Russia  in  the  days  before  the 
war  and  had  always  affected  an  urban  elegance.  "It 
would  be  a  pity  if  it  were  destroyed,  Herr  Major," 
he  finished,  with  a  glance  at  the  battalion  com- 
mander. 

The  major  looked  up  from  the  packet  of  official 
correspondence  he  was  opening. 

"No  shell  can  penetrate  here,"  he  said  shortly. 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  a  shell,"  said  Kiihlmann 
with  a  wink  to  the  artillery  officer;  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  slow  drawl  that  made  the  major  look 
up  again  quickly  from  his  correspondence. 

"What?  Mines?  Bah!  Mines  can't  touch  us 
here — we're  on  top  of  the  ridge,  and  if  the  Eng- 
lander  are  digging  at  all  they  are  digging  away  at 
the  bottom.  You  mining  fellows  may  be  very  smart, 
Kiihlmann;  but  you  can't  blow  up  a  ridge  like  this 
from  its  foundations — the  idea  is  absurd!" 

The  major's  square  military  face,  with  clipped 
moustache  and  irascible  little  eyes,  was  thrust  for- 
ward in  so  emphatic  a  negation  as  to  suggest  that 
disciplinary  ..  ction  was  the  imminent  penalty  of  dis- 
agreement. 

**Ldcherlich,  Herr  Major — IdcherlichF*  said  the 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     285 

adjutant,  prompt  with  sycophantic  support  of  his  su- 
perior.   **Etwas  NeuesT^  he  added  scornfully. 

The  mining  officer  ignored  him. 

"The  fact  is,  Herr  Major,"  he  said,  "one  cannot 
prophesy  what  a  mine  will  or  will  not  do.  Given 
explosives  enough,  it  seems  quite  feasible  to  me." 

"Do  you  seriously  suggest  that  the  Englahder  are 
going  to  blow  up  the  ridge,  Kiihlmann?"  said  the 
major  with  a  snort.  "What  are  your  countermines 
for  if  you  cannot  stop  them?" 

"The  difficulty  is,  they  are  digging  away  at  the 
bottom,  as  you  say,  Herr  Major,"  returned  Kiihl- 
mann; "and  between  us  and  them  are  several  strata 
that  are  practically  impervious  to  sound.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  the  Englander  are  digging  somewhere;  but 
we  fail  to  detect  just  where." 

Pugnacity  faded  out  of  the  major^s  face. 

"Those  verfluchte  Prussians  always  give  us  the 
part  of  the  line  where  they  expect  trouble,"  said  the 
major,  who  belonged  to  a  Bavarian  division.  "There 
is  certainly  something  coming — but  when?  I  have 
never  known  such  a  terrible  artillery  preparation  as 
this  has  been  day  after  day  since  the  twenty-fourth 
of  May.  After  the  first  few  days  of  it  I  expected 
the  attack;  but  no,  here  we  are  at  the  sixth  of  June 
—no  attack  yet  and  the  artillery  fire  slacker  than  it 
has  been  for  some  time.  Why  are  our  batteries  so 
quiet  to-night,  Weber?"  he  asked  of  the  observing 
officer. 

"Our  orders  are  to  reply  only  when  challenged. 


286  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Herr  Major.  We  cannot  know  when  the  attack  is 
coming  and  we  have  to  keep  a  big  reserve  of  am- 
munition.   We  have  had  two  false  alarms  already.'* 

The  major  nodded. 

"Those  two  long  bursts  of  Trommelfeuer!  Yes. 
Mein  Gott!  They  were  awful — schrecklich!  I 
thought*  the  attack  was  coming  at  each  of  them." 
He  bent  down  to  his  correspondence  again. 

This  talk  of  artillery  had  redirected  the  attention 
of  all  to  the  continuous  jarring  rumble  of  guns  near 
and  far.  The  three  junior  officers  sat  in  silence, 
contemplating  their  cigarette  smoke,  listening,  while 
the  major  continued  to  go  through  his  batch  of  offi- 
cial letters. 

"These  Englander  never  stop,"  said  Weber,  the 
artillery  officer,  suddenly.  "One  would  have 
thought,  after  those  frightful  battles  in  Artois  and 
round  Lens,  that  they  would  have  had  enough  for 
a  time.  Herr  Gott/  I  thought  they  were  through 
more  than  once  in  that  fighting  round  Oppy;  it  was 
the  bad  weather  saved  us  then.  I  wish  it  would  rain 
now — this  cursed  fine  spell!  It  gives  their  airmen 
such  opportunities  tool" 

The  major  looked  up  from  his  papers. 

"We  are  on  top  of  the  hill  and  they  are  at  the 
bottom,"  he  said.  "There  will  not  be  many  left 
after  they  have  charged  up  against  our  machine 
guns;  and  I  have  never  seen  a  more  scientific  maze 
of  trenches  than  ours,  here — even  if  they  reach  them. 
Bekilmmern  Sie  sich  nicht,  lieher  Weher — the  Eng- 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     287 

lander  are  going  to  have  a  smashing  defeat."  He 
went  on  opening  envelopes. 

*'They  captured  the  VImy  Ridge,  though;  and 
that  was  uphill,"  said  Weber. 

None  answered  him.  The  three  young  men  were 
silent  in  the  rumbling  thunder  of  the  artillery,  audi- 
ble even  in  this  deep  cave,  and  the  major  was  ab- 
sorbed in  his  task.    Suddenly  he  lifted  his  head. 

"Attention,  meine  Herren!  From  the  corps  com- 
mander." 

He  read  from  a  long  typewritten  letter  a  warn- 
ing of  an  impending  English  attack  from  north  of 
Armentieres  to  south  of  Ypres  that  might  be  ex- 
pected any  day.  It  enjoined  a  careful  test  of  all 
measures  for  defence  and  counter  attack,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  outline  their  main  features.  The  three 
officers  listened  with  breathless  interest.  The  major 
raised  his  voice  to  emphasise  the  gravity  of  his 
communication : 

"  'The  absolute  retention  of  the  natural  strong 
points  of  Wytschaete  and  Meesen  ^  becomes  of  the 
greatest  Importance  for  the  domination  of  the  whole 
Wytschaete  Salient.  These  strong  poilnts,  there- 
fore, must  not  fall,  even  temporarily,  into  the 
enemy^s  hands.  Both  these  strong  points  must  be 
defended  to  the  utmost  and  held  to  the  last  man, 
even  if  the  enemy  has  cut  communications  on  both 
sides  and  threatens  the  strong  points  from  the  rear.' 

*  Meesen  is  the  German  name  for  Messines.  The  excerpt  is 
from  a  document  captured  by  the  British  on  June  7,  1917. 


288  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  meine  Herrenf 
Looks  nervous!  There  is  much  more  of  it."  He 
turned  to  the  end  of  the  document:  "  ^Signed,  Von 
Laffert.'  " 

The  artillery  officer  glanced  at  his  watch  and  rose 
to  go. 

*'0f  course  we  shall  hold  on  to  this  ridge  to  the 
last  gasp,"  he  said.  "As  long  as  we  are  on  top, 
we  have  got  the  Englander  in  a  death  trap  round 
Ypres." 

''GewissT  said  the  major.  "Well,  we  are  ready 
for  them.  Have  this  circulated  to  the  companies, 
Kreisler,"  he  said  to  the  adjutant. 

Kiihlmann  also  rose  for  his  departure.  Both  of- 
ficers put  on  their  steel  helmets  and  saluted  with 
brisk  precision. 

**Guten  Abend,  Herr  Major!**  they  said  in 
chorus. 

The  major  looked  up  at  them  absently,  his  mind 
already  busy  with  the  problems  raised  by  the  corps 
commander's  order. 

**Guten  Abend/**  he  said.     "Come  in  when  you 


return." 


Weber  led  the  way  up  the  steep  stairs  of  the  dug- 
out. They  emerged  into  a  deep  trench  under  the 
pale  blue  sky  of  a  fine  summer  evening.  The  sud- 
den reports  of  guns  firing  isolated  shots  smote  them 
sharply  after  their  seclusion;  but  the  day-long  artil- 
lery duel  had  died  down.  They  turned  along  the 
trench  together. 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     289 

Fifty  yards  farther  on  the  trench  ran  into  a  larger 
one,  at  right  angles  with  it.  A  red  cross  and  an  in- 
scription painted  on  a  signboard  indicated  a  first-aid 
dugout  at  the  corner.  The  Militdr-Arzt  squatted  at 
the  entrance  to  his  hole,  puffing  contentedly  at  his 
long  porcelain-bowled  pipe.  He  nodded  recognition 
as  the  two  officers  passed. 

**Loafer!"  said  Weber  jocularly. 

''Busy  enough  presently,''  replied  the  doctor  In 
the  tone  of  a  shopkeeper  open  before  the  market 
hour. 

"Certainly,''  agreed  the  artillery  officer.  "Is  It 
for  to-night?" 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

The  two  officers  turned  along  the  main  trench 
on  their  left.  Invisible  in  the  blue  sky,  from  which 
the  luminosity  was  fading  at  every  instant,  desultory 
English  shells  came  hurtling  toward  them,  the  whine 
broadening  rapidly  to  the  final  rush  and  crash  some- 
where out  of  sight  on  either  flank.  Heavy  shells 
from  indistinguishable  German  guns,  far  to  the  rear, 
rumbled  overhead  on  their  way  to  reply.  From 
origins  in  front,  unseen  in  this  narrow  hollow  way, 
came  the  smart  crack  of  a  sniper's  rifle;  the  vicious 
short  reiteration  of  a  machine  gun  laid  on  some  un- 
known target. 

They  were  practically  on  the  summit  of  the  ridge, 
but  the  ground  still  rose  slightly  and  no  far  view 
was  possible.  A  man  came  staggering  toward  them, 
bent  under  a  heavy  sack  of  earth.    A  moment  later 


290  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Kiihlmann  stopped  by  a  hole  in  the  trench  wall  where 
another  man  stood  lowering  a  rope  over  a  pulley 
wheel  down  a  dark  narrow  shaft.  Weber's  glance 
rested  on  a  pile  of  oxygen  cylinders  adjacent. 

"We  don't  need  them  yet — not  deep  enough," 
said  Kiihlmann,  remarking  the  glance.  *'Like  to 
come  down  and  listen  for  the  Englander?" 

"Willingly,"  replied  the  artillery  officer.  "I  am 
not  due  to  relieve  Hirschauer  for  an  hour  yet." 

"Follow  me,  then,"  said  Kiihlmann;  "but  don't 
tread  on  my  fingers." 

He  swung  himself  into  the  narrow  hole,  feet  fore- 
most, and  descended. 

Weber  looked  down,  saw  a  perpendicular  ladder, 
close  against  the  side  of  the  shaft,  reaching  down 
into  black  depths,  where  Kiihlmann  had  already  dis- 
appeared, somewhat  clumsily  squirmed  himself  on 
to  the  top  rungs  of  the  ladder,  and  commenced  the 
sheer  descent.  As  his  head  dropped  below  the  level 
of  the  opening  he  heard  the  last  rush  and  shattering 
crash  of  an  English  shell.  He  half  stopped  for  an 
instant,  in  suspense,  to  see  the  entrance  cave  in ;  then 
continued  his  progress,  his  feet  fumbling  for  the 
next  lower  rung  of  the  ladder.  Below  him  he  heard 
Kiihlmann's  voice  welling  up  strangely  resonant 
from  far  beneath ;  saw  the  upward  flash  of  his  torch 
to  encourage  him.  The  descent  seemed  bottomless. 
Cramped,  his  arms  aching,  he  glanced  up  to  see  the 
entrance  no  more  than  a  faint  white  effulgence  high 


''THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     291 

above  him;  glanced  down  to  utter  blackness.  The 
air  became  dank  and  stale. 

**Achtungr*  said  a  voice  suddenly,  close  to  his  ear. 
It  was  Kiihlmann.    "You  are  at  the  bottom." 

A  torch  flashed  out,  illuminating  the  narrow  shaft 
and  the  black  orifice  of  a  small  tunnel  leading  out 
of  it.  From  the  orifice  a  man  emerged,  pushing  a 
truck  filled  with  sacks  of  earth,  and  clutched  at  the 
hook  of  the  rope  dangling  from  above.  He  stood 
sharply  erect  in  the  white  glare  of  his  officer's  torch, 
grimed  with  soil,  unhuman,  like  a  gnome  from  un- 
canny depths. 

"This  way  I"  said  Kiihlmann,  diving  into  the  nar- 
row entrance  of  the  tunnel.  Weber  followed, 
crouching  to  escape  the  low  roof,  stumbling  over  the 
sleepers  of  the  miniature  railway.  The  torch  flashed 
out  at  intervals,  and  left  him  in  a  darkness  that 
seemed  solid  the  moment  it  was  extinguished. 

The  tunnel  descended  in  a  long  easy  slope,  led 
on  and  on  in  the  intensified  blackness  after  the  fitful 
flashes  into  depths  that  had  still  lower  depths  ahead. 
A  vague  terror  oppressed  the  artillery  officer  as  he 
groped  his  way  onward,  the  terror  of  primitive  an- 
cestors lost  in  the  mazes  of  prehistoric  caverns. 

His  civilised  mind  tried  to  refer  it  to  an  anxiety 
about  the  far-distant  entrance  and  a  chance  shell, 
to  rout  it  by  a  calculation  of  probabilities — ^but 
failed.  The  vague  terror  persisted,  despite  the  cur- 
rent of  damp  air  he  felt  faintly  blowing  behind  his 
ears. 


29«  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

Craving  companionship,  he  strove  desperately  to 
keep  up  with  Kiihlmann.  A  dull  reverberating  roar 
in  the  blackness  ahead  engaged  his  attention;  puzzled 
him.  It  swelled  louder  as  he  went  onward.  Sud- 
denly Kiihlmann  flashed  his  torch  on  a  whirling  elec- 
tric fan  pendent  from  the  roof;  explained  the  sound 
without  a  word.  Behind  he  heard  the  echoing  trun- 
dling clamour  of  the  truck  overtaking  them  on  its 
return  journey. 

At  last  he  saw  a  bright  light  far  ahead  in  the 
narrow  funnel  of  darkness,  heard  the  dull  thuds  of 
picks  at  work,  caught  the  voices  of  men,  in  the  in- 
tervals when  the  man  behind  him  stayed  the  too 
rapid  progress  of  the  truck.  A  few  more  minutes 
of  stumbling  haste,  when  he  felt  that  he  must  col- 
lapse if  he  could  not  straighten  his  aching  back, 
and  he  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of 
men  illumined  by  an  electric  light  on  a  loose  cable. 
Some  were  sitting  on  the  floor,  adjusting  an  instru- 
ment resembling  a  field  telephone ;  others  were  hack- 
ing and  drilling  at  a  wall  of  clay  or  shovelling  the 
debris  into  sacks.     It  was  the  end  of  the  tunnel. 

One  of  the  sitting  figures  rose  as  Kiihlmann  came 
among  them.    He  nodded  a  greeting. 

"The  relief  coming?"  he  asked  in  a  tired  voice. 

"Yes,"  replied  Kiihlmann;  *T  came  on  ahead. 
WiegeMs?    Nothing?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  weary  officer.  "We  are  just 
going  to  try  again." 

Weber  sank  down  upon  the  floor  to  rest  his  aching 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"    ^93 

back  against  the  wall.     Kuhlmann  turned  to  him. 

''We  are  going  to  listen  for  the  Englander  digging 
their  mine.  ...  So  that  the  major  may  have  some 
warning  before  they  blow  him  up,"  he  concluded 
with  a  smile. 

"I  hope  they  don't  blow  it  up  while  I  am  down 
here  I"  said  Weber  fervently. 

"It  will  be  the  end  of  you  if  they  do,"  replied 
Kuhlmann  coolly  in  his  fluting  voice.  He  turned  to 
the  men  with  the  instrument.     ^'Ferttgf*  he  asked. 

*^Ja  wohl,  Herr  Leutnant,"  replied  an  Unter- 
officier,  with  a  receiver  like  that  of  a  telephone  oper- 
ator clipped  over  his  head. 

The  officer  uttered  a  sharp  order,  and  instantly 
the  men  with  picks  and  drills  and  shovels  ceased 
their  work.  An  absolute  silence,  unbroken  by  even 
the  faintest  murmur  of  all  those  that  are  continual 
though  unnoticed  in  the  life  aboveground,  fell  upon 
the  little  group  illumined  by  the  electric  lamp  in 
that  tunnel  end,  far  down  in  the  depths  of  the 
earth. 

Weber  felt  that  he  could  hear  his  heart  thumping 
as  he  waited  tensely  for  the  verdict  of  the  crouching 
noncommissioned  officer  with  the  sensitive  instru- 
ment on  his  head.  He  gazed  at  him,  fascinated, 
as  at  an  antique  wizard  immobile  in  the  trance  ere 
fate  is  uttered.  Minutes  passed  without  a  sound, 
with  breath  scarce  drawn.  All  eyes  were  upon  the 
listener,  trying  to  read  his  furrowed  brows.  He  did 
not  move. 


294  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Nichtsf*  queried  Kiihlmann  at  last. 

"Nothing,  Herr  Leutnant,"  replied  the  noncom- 
missioned officer. 

"Give  me  the  instrument.'*  He  fitted  the  micro- 
phones over  his  ears,  listened  minute  after  minute 
in  that  same  dead  silence  where  his  companions  virere 
as  motionless  as  statues.  Finally  he  shook  his  head. 
"Nothing!"  he  said  gloomily. 

"It  is  those  cursed  strata,'*  said  the  other  officer. 

Kiihlmann  assented;  and  the  two  relapsed  into 
geological  technicalities,  where  Weber  was  lost. 

'Tou  ought  to  hear  something,  I  suppose?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Kiihlmann.  "Usually  you  can 
plainly  hear  the  other  people  digging  and  can  esti- 
mate fairly  well  where  they  are.  When  the  noise 
stops  you  know  they  are  laying  their  mine.  But 
here  we  have  never  heard  anything." 

"But  you  are  certain  they  are  digging?" 

"Quite.  The  entrances  to  their  shafts  have  been 
spotted  long  ago.  Beyond  that  we  are  utterly  igno- 
rant. The  Englander  are  probably  quite  close."  He 
turned  again  to  his  men;  ordered  them  to  recom- 
mence their  work. 

With  the  thudding  of  their  picks,  the  artillery  of- 
ficer realised  again  his  position,  far  down  in  this 
crevice,  in  the  depths  of  the  ridge.  Once  more  his 
dread  of  the  cavern  reasserted  itself;  swept  over 
him  in  a  panic  terror  that  he  had  to  fight  lest  it 
should  be  remarked.     Death  in  this  hole  seemed  to 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     295 

him  the  ultimate  horror;  seemed  a  near  menace  that 
would  spring  with  a  dull  roar,  an  imperfectly  im- 
agined explosion,  an  appalling  blackness.  He  was 
aquiver  to  be  out  of  it,  shrank  from  the  darkness 
beyond  the  rays  of  this  little  electric  lamp.  With 
delight  he  heard  the  other  officer  say : 

**Auf  Wtedersehen,  Kiihlmann — and  good  luck!" 
—-preparatory  to  departure. 

He  linked  himself  to  him. 

"Good  night,  Kiihlmann!'* 

The  tall  figure,  bending  awkwardly  in  the  confined 
space,  turned  and  nodded  a  farewell. 

"Good  night!  I  rely  on  you  people  to  beat  off 
any  attack  while  I  am  down  here,"  he  added  jocu- 
larly. 

Weber  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  a  closed  en- 
trance.    What  if  a  shell  had  burst  on  it  even  now! 

"We'll  do  our  best,"  he  said  with  a  forced  laugh, 
and  followed  the  other  officer  into  the  tunnel. 

As  once  more,  crouching,  arms  outstretched  to 
finger  contact  with  the  walls,  he  groped  his  way  up 
that  black  tunnel,  past  the  whirring  electric  fan, 
Kiihlmann's  last  words  haunted  him.  What  if  the 
final  bombardment,  preparatory  to  the  attack,  were 
even  now  in  progress,  obliterating  the  trenches,  fill- 
ing in  the  dugouts?  He  imagined,  from  ample  ex- 
perience, the  tumbled  heap  of  earth  that  hid  the 
place  where  the  entrance  to  the  mine  shaft  had  been ; 
the  crash  upon  crash  of  bursting  shells  in  fierce 
founts  of  leaping  smoke,  making  certain  the  work; 


296  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  blackened  lumps  of  clay  strewn  loosely  over 
their  tomb. 

He  hurried,  straining  after  his  companion,  crav- 
ing reassurance.  The  other  officer,  too  fatigued  for 
unnecessary  speech,  strode  on  without  a  word. 
Weber  was  impressed  by  his  obvious  familiarity  with 
this  black  underworld.  At  last,  by  a  flash  of  his 
comrade's  torch,  he  perceived  that  he  was  at  the  foot 
of  the  perpendicular  shaft. 

He  looked  upward — and,  with  a  spasm  of  re- 
newed terror,  saw  no  light  above  him.  His  com- 
panion calmly  commenced  the  steep  climb.  He  fol- 
lowed, lagging  behind  the  practised  figure  above 
him,  for  all  his  efforts.  He  saw  a  faint  white  glim- 
mer high  above ;  saw  it  darken  as  his  comrade  scram- 
bled through.  A  minute  later  he  himself  had 
emerged  into  the  trench,  by  the  pile  of  oxygen  cylin- 
ders. 

**Gute  Nachtr  said  the  other  shortly,  and  turned 
along  the  trench  to  the  left. 

Weber  turned  to  the  right,  toward  the  front  line. 
After  the  complete  blackness  below,  the  dusky  light 
of  the  fine  summer  evening  seemed  strangely  bright. 
Overhead  the  stars  commenced  to  glimmer  in  a  blue 
sky  from  which  the  luminosity  was  even  yet  not  quite 
withdrawn. 

A  shell  passed,  with  a  whine,  to  a  distant  crash. 
He  remembered  his  fears  of  the  intense  bombard- 
ment.    The  artillery  fire  had  not  increased.     Only 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     297 

the  usual  apparently  haphazard  shelling  was  in  prog- 
ress. 

The  trench  along  which  he  hurried  was  thronged 
with  busy  men  in  helmets,  profiting  by  this  lull. 
Some  were  feverishly  repairing  the  passageway 
damaged  by  a  chance  shot.  Others  were  re-enforc- 
ing sandbagged  strong  points  at  ftrench,  comers, 
where  little  black  hoopholes,  here  and  there  among 
the  sacks,  hinted  at  the  machine  guns  ready  to  spurt 
death  into  an  invader.  Most  of  them  were  carrying- 
parties,  bearing  rations,  ammunition  and  trench 
stores  to  men  who  had  hungrily  craved  them  during 
the  long  bombardment  that  had  shut  them  off  from 
a  worldful  of  such  articles  behind. 

He  passed  over  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  com- 
menced to  descend  the  brow,  following  the  deep 
trench,  which  zigzagged  downward,  with  parapets 
banked  high  at  the  corners.  Other  trenches  went 
off  to  right  and  left,  which  were  filled  with  delving, 
toiling  men,  making  ready  to  resist  the  expected  at- 
tack. He  did  not  descend  far.  A  few  yards  below 
the  summit  his  trench  ran  into  a  main  fire  trench, 
much  damaged  by  bombardment;  its  traverses  mere 
heaps  of  earth,  with  sandbags  askew.  He  turned 
along  it,  threading  his  way  among  the  feverishly 
digging  men. 

After  a  few  steps  he  turned  suddenly  into  a  little 
square  armour-plated  recess  in  the  wall  of  the  para- 
pet, offering  just  space  enough  for  the  officer,  cor- 
poral and  two  telephone  orderlies  it  contained.    The 


298  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

officer  stood  with  his  back  to  him,  peering  out 
through  a  chink  in  the  wall.  He  turned  round  at 
the  entrance  of  his  relief. 

"Good  evening,  Hirschauer,"  said  Weber. 

"Good  evening,"  replied  the  other  wearily.  Even 
in  this  dim  light  It  could  be  seen  that  he  was  hag- 
gard with  want  of  sleep.  "Your  people  arrived  in 
front  of  you.     I  have  relieved  mine.'* 

"Nothing  fresh?" 

"No.     A  quiet  spell  this  last  hour  or  two." 

For  a  few  minutes  they  discussed  brief  technicali- 
ties; and  then  Hirschauer  bade  him  good  night. 

Left  alone  with  his  men,  Weber  tested  the  tele- 
phone communication  to  his  battery  with  the  air 
of  one  to  whom  this  was  ordinary  business  routine. 
He  spoke  to  the  Hauptmann  with  the  field  guns, 
some  two  thousand  yards  back  across  the  ridge. 

"No;  nothing  fresh.  All  quiet.  .  .  .  No.  No 
signs  of  attack  at  present." 

He  put  down  the  receiver  and  went  across  to 
where  the  Scherenfernrohr,  the  telescopic  range 
finder,  leaned  on  its  tripod  against  the  wall.  He 
looked  out  through  the  chink  in  the  sandbags. 

Almost  straight  in  front  the  mass  of  Mont  Kem- 
mel  loomed  up  black  against  the  last  radiance  of  the 
late  sunset.  Between  its  base  and  him  a  white  mist 
was  rising  in  level  sheets.  On  his  right  he  thought 
he  could  just  discern  the  pale  glimmer  of  the  skele- 
ton-white Tower  of  Ypres,  a  familiar-enough  ob- 
ject in  the  plain  that  this  view  dominated  in  the  day- 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     299 

time.  Close  at  hand  the  tangled  masses  of  barbed 
wire  stretched  down  the  ridge  toward  the  English 
trenches  at  the  bottom.  From  somewhere  among 
the  stakes  came  the  sharp  thin  flash  and  quick  re- 
port of  a  German  rifle  in  a  sniper's  post.  Beyond 
the  wire,  which  he  now  saw  to  be  badly  cut  by  shell 
fire,  an  English  machine  gun  rapped  out  its  prohibi- 
tion of  an  attempt  to  repair  the  obstacle. 

He  gazed  intently  toward  the  enemy's  position. 
There  was  no  sign  of  it.  The  white  shroud  of  mist 
stretched,  away  below  him,  level  into  the  dusk,  like 
a  sheet  of  water.  It  was  impenetrable,  its  unruflled 
imperceptible  rise  producing  an  illusion  of  brooding 
calm.  Under  it  guns  here  and  there  boomed  or 
cracked,  according  to  their  distance;  but,  after  the 
prolonged  roar  of  the  artillery  duel,  the  wailing  and 
crashing  of  falling  shells  that  for  so  many  days 
had  dominated  the  ear,  the  prominence  of  their  cas- 
ual detonations  merely  emphasised  this  unwonted 
peace.  He  stared  into  the  mist,  toward  those  dis- 
tant hill  masses,  Mont  Rouge  and  Mont  Noir, 
echeloned  on  the  right,  behind  Mont  Kemmel,  now 
blurring  into  the  darkening  sky,  searching,  ever  baf- 
fled, for  a  glimpse  of  the  enemy  that  lay  below. 

The  orderlies  behind  him  were  silent,  and  as  he 
gazed  fixedly  before  him  he  drifted  out  of  touch 
with  reality;  seemed  to  be  alone  in  this  vigil  over 
a  solitude  bereft  of  feature,  but  pregnant  with  mys- 
terious menace.  It  came  to  him  suddenly  that  he 
had  many  times  gazed  out  precisely  thus  over  the 


300  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

blank  level  sheets  of  mist  that  hid  an  enemy.  When? 
He  could  not  identify  it.  His  emotional  background 
would  not  blend  with  any  remembered  incident,  and 
it  was  the  emotional  background  that  came  back  to 
him  so  uncannily  from  the  past — precisely  thus. 

It  seemed  an  experience  many  times  reproduced  in 
past  existences,  with  exactly  that  same  pervading 
sense  of  personal  insecurity,  of  powerlessness  to  do 
anything  else.  Gazing  thus  from  a  hilltop  in  Flan- 
ders over  the  mist  that  hid  the  English  foemen 
awaiting  the  moment  to  slay,  he,  the  lad  from  Mu- 
nich, fulfilled  destiny  in  the  spiral  of  the  aeons.  He 
had  a  flitting  vision  of  himself  in  the  grasp  of  an 
obscure  Fate  that  placed  him  again  and  again  in 
these  circumstances  in  the  penultimate  hour  before 
a  crisis  in  his  life. 

He  shook  himself  free  from  the  hallucination  and 
set  himself  to  grasp  the  realities  of  his  position.  Be- 
low him,  under  that  mist,  which  now  lost  its  spec- 
tral familiarity,  lay  a  maze  of  trenches.  He  visual- 
ised them  deliberately.  And  in  those  trenches  were 
English  soldiers  in  flat  steel  helmets — spaced  nor- 
mally or  massed  for  the  attack?  He  could  not  say. 
But,  should  they  issue  through  the  mist,  he  must  be 
instantly  ready  to  give  the  signal,  to  shout  through 
the  telephone  the  word  that  should  produce  crowds 
of  sharp  little  explosions  in  the  air  above  his  allotted 
sector. 

He  braced  himself  for  such  a  contingency  in  his 
new  contact  with  things  as  they  really  were.     Even 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     301 

if  the  attack  was  not  imminent  a  raid — one  of  those 
that  had  been  made  nightly  for  weeks  on  the  threat- 
ened sector — was  probable. 

And  behind  the  trenches  lay  guns — guns  in  hun- 
dreds, in  thousands^ — guns  beside  which  the  wearied 
crews  slept  for  a  brief  space  while  the  weapons 
cooled,  storing  new  energy  for  that  final  fierce  orgy 
of  destruction  that  would  be  the  prelude  to  the  cli- 
max he  knew  to  be  inevitable.  And,  hurrying  on 
the  roads  to  the  guns,  under  that  pall  of  mist,  he 
could  visualise  the  long  streams  of  wagons,  of  motor 
transport,  bringing  up  new  hillocks  of  shells  to  melt 
later  when  the  barrages  raged  upon  the  ridge. 

For  the  moment  or  two  in  which  he  thus  vividly 
realised  the  intense  purposeful  activity  of  a  vast 
army  hidden  under  that  mist,  the  English  soldiers 
ceased  to  be  mere  shadows  to  him  and  he  had  a 
glimpse  of  them,  real  men  with  wives  and  mothers 
and  children,  held,  as  he  was,  in  the  grip  of  relent- 
less Fate,  mysteriously  forced — he  refused  to  con- 
tinue the  theme. 

Behind  him,  in  the  trench,  he  heard  an  officer 
giving  instructions  to  a  working  party  about  to  re- 
pair the  wire.  This  was  reality;  he  listened  to  the 
instructions  without  taking  his  eyes  from  the  chink. 
It  was  now  almost  dark.  The  stars  were  bright, 
even  in  the  west.  The  mist  was  no  longer  a  fea- 
ture. He  heard  the  last  carefully  reiterated  orders 
of  the  officer,  saw  indistinct  forms  go  from  the  foot 
of  the  parapet  into  that  perilous  wilderness  where 


30a  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  loose  wire  hung.  It  seemed  to  him  that  on  the 
instant  a  vicious  fire  must  burst  forth  to  meet  them. 
It  did  not.  The  sector  remained  quiet,  in  a  brood- 
ing hush.  Only  to  the  northward  the  cannonade 
reconmienced  once  more,  grew  momentarily  more 
volent.    He  glanced  toward  the  yellow  flashes. 

In  this  darkness  his  mind  went  back  to  the  com- 
fortable well-lighted  dugout  of  the  battalion  head- 
quarters. He  heard  again  the  conversation  of  an 
hour  or  two  back,  saw  the  major^s  little  face  in  in- 
dignant repudiation  of  the  suggested  catastrophe. 
By  a  natural  transition  his  thoughts  flitted  to  Kiihl- 
mann;  to  the  long  dark  shaft  into  the  ridge,  that 
tunnel  end  where  they  had  listened  in  vain  for  an 
intimation  of  their  possible  fate.     Possible? 

He  recurred  again  to  the  major's  ridicule;  to  the 
adjutant's  scornful  suggestion  that  it  would  be 
"something  new."  There  was  something  familiar 
in  that.  His  mind  jumped  back  to  his  schoolboy 
days — he  saw  himself  sitting  with  rows  of  other  uni- 
formed little  boys  in  church — Etwas  Neuesf  Sin 
autem  novam  rem  fecerit  Dominus — What  was  that? 
A  text;  Numbers  xvi,  30;  it  came  back  to  him  word 
for  word  in  the  sonorous  tones  of  the  priest :  "But 
if  the  Lord  make  a  new  thing  and  the  earth  open  her 
mouth  and  swallow  them  up  .  .  .  then  ye  shall 
understand  that  these  men  have  provoked  the  Lord." 

Bah  I  He  felt  his  men  behind  him  look  up  at  his 
short  laugh.  He  was  strangely  fanciful  to-night. 
Concentrate!    concentrate! — ^yes,   that   was   also   a 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     303 

memory  from  his  school  days — his  old  master 


Herr  Gottf  The  dark  western  sky  toward  which  he 
looked  leaped  into  one  long  blaze.  He  was  in- 
stantly nothing  but  a  soldier. 

In  quickly  following  waves  of  sound  the  roar  and 
slam  and  crash  of  a  thousand  guns,  firing  at  a  pre- 
arranged instant,  smote  him.  The  roar  yet  con- 
tinued from  the  first  startling  salvo  when  he  heard 
the  wailing  rush  of  the  on-coming  shells;  the  rend- 
ing, stunning  crashes  of  their  arrival.  The  roar 
maintained  itself,  fiercely  intensified  from  moment 
to  moment  in  a  deafening  coincidence  of  reports, 
throbbing  into  the  distance  like  a  gigantic  drum. 
The  rushing  of  the  shells  filled  the  air  in  the  brief 
intervals  between  the  appalling  detonations  close  at 
hand. 

The  bombardment  had  recommenced.  He  heard 
hoarse  shouts  in  the  trench  behind  him,  the  stampede 
of  panic-stricken  men  dashing  to  the  dugouts.  He 
set  his  teeth  and  gazed  steadfastly  through  his  chink. 
Out  there  amid  the  wire  lit  now  by  fitful  red  flashes 
that  leaped  simultaneously  with  the  crash,  he  saw 
the  dim  figures  of  the  working  party,  obscured  in  a 
whelm  of  smoke,  racing  back  to  cover.  The  en- 
tanglements would  remain  unrepaired. 

Long  drawn  minutes  passed  in  this  chaos  of  stun- 
ning noise  that  diminished  only  for  a  fresh  paroxysm, 
and  ceased  never.  The  earth  shook  at  each  vicious 
explosion.  A  reek  as  of  burnt  fireworks  filled  the 
little  square  shelter,  got  into  his  eyes,  was  inhaled 


304  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

into  his  lungs.  Unconsciously  he  smeared  his  eyes 
with  the  back  of  his  hand,  intent  on  that  bit  of 
ground  darkly  in  front  of  him,  ready  to  shout  to 
the  telephonist  at  the  first  sign  of  a  moving  figure. 

At  any  moment  the  zone  of  the  falling  shells 
might  shift  farther  back — he  heard  many  going  well 
over  already — and  the  British  infantry  come  rush- 
ing up  behind  its  barrage,  bomb  and  knife  in  hand, 
for  the  brief  death  struggle  of  a  reconnoitring  raid. 
He  cursed  at  his  own  infantry,  cowering  in  their  dug- 
outs, too  panic-stricken  in  this  shell  fire  to  fling  up 
the  flares  that  should  illuminate  their  front. 

Crash  followed  crash  in  such  quick  succession 
that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  note  the  wail  and 
whine,  the  broad  fierce  sibilance  of  the  countless 
projectiles  tearing  through  the  air.  The  noise  of 
the  British  batteries  was  one  long-continued  heavy 
roar,  surging  to  ponderous  climaxes.  Behind  him 
an  almost  equally  fierce  roll  of  sound  came  from  the 
German  guns,  working  furiously  to  beat  down  this 
terrible  fire. 

When,  for  a  brief  moment,  he  altered  the  focus 
of  his  gaze  from  his  immediate  front  to  a  longer 
range,  his  eyes  were  dazzled  with  a  wonderful  spec- 
tacle. To  the  uttermost  limits  of  vision  the  close 
horizon  was  aflame.  Broad  white  sheets  of  bril- 
liant light  flared  ceaselessly  to  the  zenith,  now  far, 
now  strangely  near,  to  the  right,  to  the  left — ^too 
rapidly  multiplied  in  their  irregular  coincidence  to 
count.    Among  them  shot  yellower  tongues  of  flame 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     305 

in  thousands,  leaping  and  flickering  along  the  gun 
positions  invisible  in  the  dead  light  of  day.  Flashes 
of  an  almost  orange  hue  were  one  end  of  a  gamut 
of  fire  of  which  the  other  was  a  livid  purple.  Far 
back  a  dump  was  ablaze,  with  a  heart  of  furnace 
red  and  a  smother  of  rolling  smoke. 

Nearer  at  hand  the  yellow  shrapnel  stars  twin- 
kled, ever  renewed  as  they  flashed  and  vanished, 
over  trenches  where  German  gunners  thought  Brit- 
ish infantry  might  be  massed  for  the  attack.  Close 
in,  the  ground  was  at  last  vividly  illumined  in  the 
ghastly  light,  now  increasing,  now  dying  down,  of 
the  flares  flung  up  one  after  another  by  German  sol- 
diers ordered  from  their  dugouts  to  the  perilous 
lookout  posts.  He  gazed,  with  intense  and  peering 
vision,  at  the  fantastic  shadows  thrown  by  the  tan- 
gled wire,  on  stakes  askew,  in  the  dark  crater  pits 
where  the  shells  had  burst. 

He  existed,  a  conscious  point  of  intelligence,  held 
by  intense  volition  above  the  leaping  terrors  of  the 
blind  instinctive  germ-self,  agonising  from  instant 
to  instant  in  a  renewed  miracle  of  continuity,  through 
an  uncomputed  immeasurable  period.  The  inferno 
that  thundered  and  crashed  about  him  never  varied,^ 
entered  no  new  phase  that  would  help  to  mark  off 
time.  The  startling  shock  of  a  near  burst  at  this 
instant  was  followed  by  another  at  the  next. 

The  long-rolling  viciously  vehement  roar  of  the 
British  batteries  was  as  indefinitely  sustained  as  that 
which  came  like  an  echo  from  the  German  guns  be- 


g06  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

hind.  The  wide  panorama  of  ceaseless  flashes  leap- 
ing irregularly  to  the  stars  was  as  monotonous  in 
its  renewal  as  that  of  jostling  waves  long  contem- 
plated; was  a  hypnotic  dazzlement  to  the  vision. 
Still,  he  gazed,  clearly  conscious  of  nothing  else,  at 
the  fitfully  illumined  tangle  of  stakes  and  hanging 
wire. 

His  vigilance  suddenly  quickened  in  a  spasm  of 
alarm  as  a  German  flare,  describing  a  wider  arc 
than  usual,  sank  like  a  falling  dwindling  star  far 
out  amid  the  wire,  throwing  new  shadows  among 
the  twisted  obstacles.  At  last!  The  fulfilment  of 
his  eternity  of  strained  expectation  was,  when  it 
came,  a  shock  at  which  his  heartbeats  raced. 

For  one  more  second  he  gazed,  concentrated  in 
a  paroxysm  of  attention  that  convulsed  and  fixed  the 
muscles  of  his  face.  Beyond,  in  the  greenish-white 
glare  of  the  expiring  light  spluttering  upon  the 
ground,  he  saw  figures,  erect  and  bent  forward  pur- 
posefully; saw  the  vivid  pallor  of  the  faces;  saw 
them  move  as  the  light  shot  up  in  one  last  flash  be- 
fore it  died.  He  turned  round  into  the  darkness 
of  the  shelter.  It  was  like  a  black  dungeon — as 
silent.  Alone?  The  fear  was  simultaneous  with 
his  word. 

"Battery  1'' 

In  the  darkness  the  voice  of  the  Unterofficier 
spoke  immediately  into  the  telephone. 

"Battery,  Herr  LeutnantI"  it  added  calmly. 

"First  barrage— ten  rounds  gunfire !     Fire  I" 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—-"     307 

He  heard  the  message  shouted  down  the  line; 
thanked  God,  in  a  sudden  recollection  of  the  risks, 
that  the  communications  were  still  intact;  wondered 
whether  the  line  orderlies  were  still  present,  in  the 
instant  in  which  he  turned  again  to  his  observation 
slit. 

"Battery  firing,  H^rr  LeutnantI"  said  the  voice 
of  the  Unterofficier  behind  him;  he  scarcely  heard 
it,  craving  for  another  flare. 

On  his  left  another  observation  officer  had  seen 
the  enemy — or  had  taken  the  alarm  from  this  local 
barrage — for  another  series  of  vivid  little  flashes 
commenced  to  jump  out  of  the  black  air.  He  gazed, 
oblivious  of  a  terrible  crash  just  behind  him.  The 
stretch  of  tangled  wire  was  now  fantastically  illu- 
minated as  flare  after  flare  soared  up  from  the  Ger- 
man lines,  fell  like  a  hissing  star  to  extinction  in  the 
wilderness.  One  fell  in  close  proximity  to  where  he 
had  first  observed  the  enemy;  lay  burning  bright. 

They  were  still  there!  They?  He  gazed  again; 
saw  the  same  erect  and  purposefully  bent  figures, 
the  same  white  faces  among  the  thicket  of  the  stakes. 
The  shrapnel  still  lit  and  cracked  above  them.  They 
were  the  bodies  of  the  repairing  party,  caught  by 
the  sudden  reopening  of  the  bombardment,  dead, 
hung  up  on  the  wire  I    He  cursed  savagely. 

"Cease  fire!"  he  shouted  over  his  shoulder. 

He  heard  the  Unterofficier  repeat  the  order  again 
and  again  into  the  telephone. 


508  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Communications  broken,  Herr  Leutnant!'*  he 
reported. 

The  artillery  officer  cursed  again. 

*'Send  up  a  light  signal!"  he  ordered.  "And 
send  one  of  the  men  along  the  wire." 

In  the  reaction  from  the  fierce  excitement  of  the 
fancied  attack  his  mind  went  back  to  the  battery, 
where  the  men  were  now  stepping  back  from  the 
silenced  guns.  He  was  glad — cowardly — that  the 
broken  communications  precluded  an  awkward  ex- 
planation to  the  Hauptmann.  He  could  imagine 
that  officer  beside  himself  with  mingled  curiosity  and 
anxiety.  Thence  his  thoughts  slipped  to  the  bat- 
talion headquarters  dugout,  where  he  had  drunk  a 
mug  of  coffee  on  the  way  up.  Was  the  electric  light 
still  brightly  illuminating  that  cozy  little  shelter, 
with  its  picture-hung  walls  ?  He  wondered  whether 
the  major  and  the  adjutant  were  still  there,  safe 
from  this  inferno  aboveground — perhaps  discussing 
Kiihlmann's  pessimistic  forebodings. 

It  was,  of  course,  ridiculous !  Nothing  could  blow 
up  a  ridge  from  its  foundations!  Then  he  thought 
of  Kiihlmann  himself,  far  down  in  that  narrow  tun- 
nel, listening — listening;  and  then  his  men,  digging 
away  again,  in  their  rayless  night  all  oblivious  of 
the  shells  crashing  and  howling  and  shattering  in  the 
night  of  stars  overhead.  He  shuddered.  It  was 
better  to  face  it  up  here. 

The  Englander,  too — his  mind  reverted  to  them 
for  an  instant — they   were   even   deeper,   if   Kiihl- 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     309 

mann  spoke  truth;  digging — digging — or  had  they 
finished  digging?  Was  the  mine  all  laid,  an  officer 
sitting  somewhere  over  yonder,  his  hand  on  a  firing 
key,  his  eyes  on  the  slowly  moving  pointers  of  a 
watch,  waiting  for  the  instant  when  one  brusque 
movement  should He  tried  to  imagine  a  sur- 
passing roar;  heard,  with  the  clearness  of  hallucina- 
tion, the  adjutant's  scornful:  ^^Etwas  NeuesF^  He 
willed  himself  to  agree  with  him  as  once  more  he 
focused  his  attention  on  the  dreary  wilderness  of 
the  entanglement,  with  its  background  of  leaping 
flashes  from  guns  that  never  ceased. 

Suddenly  the  bombardment  passed  into  a  new 
phase.  From  somewhere  in  the  dark  depths  not  far 
distant  he  saw  bright  short  flashes  jump  up,  illuml. 
nating  the  inequalities  of  the  ground  surface,  multi-c 
plied  over  a  wide  front.  Almost  immediately  he 
heard  the  deafening  detonations  of  great  trench- 
mortar  bombs  exploding  along  the  line  on  his  left 
and  right.  Mingled  with  them,  In  greater  numbers, 
were  the  sharper  bursts  of  shells,  arriving  in  ever- 
renewed  flights. 

These  short-range  projectiles,  vomited  as  from 
inexhaustible  fountains  in  the  enemy  trenches,  now 
monopolised  the  bombardment  of  the  German  front 
lines.  The  guns  that  still  flashed  and  scintillated  in 
the  western  darkness  had  lengthened  their  aim.  He 
heard  their  shells  crashing  back  and  ever  back  over 
the  ridge  in  the  intervals  of  the  heavy  explosions 
close  at  hand.    They  seemed,  however,  to  be  dimin- 


810  \CCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ishing  steadily  in  their  frequency;  the  leaping  gun 
flashes  toward  which  he  gazed  seemed  to  be  renewed 
in  an  ever-waning  multitude. 

The  bombardment  was  dying  down.  He  assured 
himself  of  this  with  a  relaxation  of  the  intense  strain 
that  had  held  him  so  long.  The  night  was  surely 
nearly  over.  He  glanced  at  the  phosphorescent  dial 
of  his  watch — it  marked  five  minutes  past  four.^ 
Yet  another  reprieve?  The  dawn  must  be  on  the 
point  of  breaking.  One  more  hour,  at  the  most,  and 
the  attack  would  be  either  delivered — or  looming 
still,  a  vague,  awful  menace  that  overshadowed 
every  thought  and  act  of  those  granted  another  day 
of  life. 

Any  moment  of  this  next  hour  might  be  that 
chosen  by  the  mysterious  controlling  brain  far  dis^ 
tant  behind  those  diminishing  gun  flashes.  Any  mo- 
ment I  He  gazed  into  the  night  as  against  shut 
doors  that  would  suddenly  fly  open.  The  minute 
hand  of  the  wrist  watch,  still  held  under  his  eyes, 
crawled  slowly  between  the  five  and  ten.  A  stun- 
ning shock  came,  with  a  bright  red  flash. 

He  picked  himself  up  from  the  floor,  cursing  the 
telephone  box,  against  which  his  head  had  been 
knocked.  He  knocked  it  again,  against  the  roof, 
as  he  rose.  Dense  fumes  choked  him.  He  remained 
on  his  knees,  felt  round  him.  The  shelter  had  col- 
lapsed under  the  explosion  of  a  trench-mortar  bomb. 

*  German  stfmmer  time.  Five  minutes  past  three  J-  u.  is 
English  summer  time. 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     311 

Through  a  hole  on  the  ground  level  he  saw  fitful 
quick  reflections.  Not  buried — Gott  set  dank!  He 
crawled  toward  the  orifice;  crawled  over  the  dead 
body  of  the  UnterofEcier.  He  dragged  a  box  of 
signal  flares  with  him  as  he  issued  into  the  wrecked 
trench.  Fierce  bursts  leaped  up  from  it  on  either 
hand.  He  could  not  stay  there.  He  must  go 
farther  back,  where  he  could  still  observe  in  some 
safety. 

He  glanced  up  to  the  ridge,  saw  its  silhouette 
black  against  a  blanching  sky.     The  dawn  I 

The  next  instant  he  felt  the  hillside  rise  and  heave 
like  the  sea  from  its  foundations;  continue  to  lift 
and  fall  under  his  feet  as  he  reeled  and  stumbled  on 
his  hands  and  knees,  equilibrium  impossible.  One 
wild  spasm  of  bewildered  alarm  convulsed  him  In 
the  fraction  of  a  second  before  he  saw  a  vast  foun- 
tain of  red  flame  shoot  up  from  the  summit  of  the 
ridge  above  him — ^no,  not  one,  but  many  such  foun- 
tains, repeated  into  the  indefinite  distance,  banish- 
ing the  stars  in  one  colossal  rending  stupefying  roar 
that  swallowed  the  loudest  burst  and  would  not 
cease. 

Sprawling  on  the  heaped  clay,  he  stared  up, 
dazed,  fascinated;  saw  enormous  black  domes 
against  the  sky  where  the  fountains  of  flame  had 
been;  heard  the  succession  of  gigantic  rumbling 
blasts  as  the  noise  of  the  more  distant  explosions 
arrived.  Still  the  ground  rocked  and  heaved  and 
sank.     He  felt  sickeningly  insecure,  as  though  fall- 


312  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ing  through  a  world  In  disintegration.  The  black 
domes  sank;  and  in  a  deluge  of  hurtling  debris,  while 
the  concussion  of  the  deafening  explosions  yet  rang 
In  his  ears,  he  heard  once  more  the  long  thundering 
roll  and  slam  and  roar  of  the  British  batteries, 
firing  together  at  a  maximum  of  repetition. 

Even  as  the  first  wild  flight  of  shells  arrived  and 
crashed,  he  rose  totteringly  to  his  feet  on  the  still 
shuddering  earth  and  gazed  toward  the  enemy. 

Against  the  darkness,  but  startlingly  close,  a  series 
of  magnificent  coruscations  of  multicoloured  sparks 
was  whirling  unceasingly  and  parabolic  rains  of  fire- 
works from  sources  near  the  ground.  He  stared 
for  an  Instant  In  bewildered  admiration  at  the 
strange  and  beautiful  spectacle. 

Then,  as  the  greenish-white  flares,  the  signal 
lights,  shot  up  from  the  battered  trenches,  he  saw 
the  uncouth  ponderous  bulk  of  tanks  nosing  their 
way,  with  high  blind  snouts  in  the  air,  over  the 
wrecked  entanglements,  sparks  from  their  grinding 
contact  with  the  wire  flying  over  and  round  them. 
The  attack!  He  bent  down  to  his  box  of  signal 
flares  and  sent  up  rocket  after  rocket,  red  and  white, 
against  the  paling  stars. 

Then  he  turned  and  dashed  along  the  wrecked 
trench,  clambering  over  heaps  of  debris,  stumbling 
Into  deep  craters,  straining  every  nerve  to  get  over 
the  summit  of  the  ridge.  About  him  was  an  inferno 
of  stunning  rending  explosions.  He  ran  on  as  In  a 
dream — desperate,  baffled,   yet  continuing.      Some- 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"     313 

thing  professional  in  him  noted  an  unfamiliar  shell 
rush;  wondered  dully  what  it  was.  Red  fire  was 
burning  somewhere,  glowing  through  the  choking 
smoke  that  reeked  across  the  hillside. 

He  found  himself  in  a  part  of  the  deep  com- 
munication trench  still  retaining  some  of  its  fea- 
tures. He  recognised  his  whereabouts  for  a  mo- 
ment, ran  on,  hearing  behind  him  the  thudding  of 
bombs,  the  hammering  of  isolated  machine  guns, 
the  sharp  vicious  cracks  of  the  weapons  carried  by 
the  tanks,  mingled  with  the  rush  and  crash  of  count- 
less shells  bursting  ever  farther  across  the  ridge. 

He  tripped  suddenly  over  an  obstacle,  fell  with 
hands  outstretched  on  iron.  'In  the  bright  red  glow 
that  came  from  somewhere  above  the  lip  of  the 
trench  he  identified  the  obstacle  as  he  rose.  The 
oxygen  cylinders  I  He  gave  a  glance  to  his  left; 
saw  a  man's  legs  dangling  from  the  middle  of  a 
solid  mass  of  clay.  It  was  the  pulley  attendant, 
caught  by  the  fall  of  earth  as  he  peered  down  the 
shaft  that  would  not  again  be  opened.  The  artillery 
officer  only  faintly  realised  the  horror  that  chilled 
him  as  he  ran  on. 

He  was  pulled  up  short  by  a  sheer  wall  of  earth 
that  barred  his  progress.  He  could  not  identify  it. 
He  gazed  up,  in  stupefaction,  at  a  great  conical 
hill  rising  where  no  hill  had  been  before,  dark 
against  the  paling  sky.  As  he  staggered  back  he 
saw  the  Red  Cross  signboard  of  the  first-aid  dug- 
out, all  askew,  protruding  from  the  debris  at  the  foot 


SU  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

of  the  hill.  Then,  on  the  right — ^there  had  been  a 
trench — ^the  battalion  headquarters  dugout.  He 
stared  at  the  great  bulk  of  the  unfamiliar  hill,  un- 
able to  reconcile  it  with  what  he  had  known.  It 
towered  solid  above  him,  on  the  site  where  he  had 
left  only  excavations  in  the  level  earth;  where  he 
had  sat,  deep  down,  with  friends  in  a  comfortably 
furnished  cave  only  a  little  while  before.  It  looked 
eternal  in  its  mass  in  this  magically  changed  land- 
scape. 

The  artillery  officer  laughed  aloud,  the  screaming 
laugh  of  a  maniac  who  triumphs  in  his  dream  that 
he  is  the  first  of  men  to  scale  the  mountains  of  the 
moon.  Then  he  commenced  to  scramble  up  the 
loose  earth  of  the  steep  side.  Below  him,  round 
him,  was  the  strange  ruddy  glow  he  had  already 
noticed,  which  he  now  accepted  as  an  integral  part 
of  his  unearthly  environment.  He  nodded  his  head 
at  an  internal  voice  that  assured  him  distinctly  that 
the  moon  was  the  abode  of  devils.  The  surge  of 
roaring,  clashing,  fulminating  sound  that  beat  round 
him  confirmed  him  in  this  acquiescence.  He  laughed 
again  as  he  clambered  upward,  shouting  Latin  pray- 
ers, stray  verses  from  the  Bible,  which  a  pious  Mu- 
nich mother  had  taught  him  in  his  boyhood,  tri- 
umphing in  his  victory  over  the  diabolic. 

At  last  he  reached  the  top.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
and  was  about  to  advance  when  he  drew  back  sud- 
denly. Sheer  below  was  a  vast  pit  from  which  dense 
smoke  curled  and  drifted.    Far  down  in  the  smother 


"THE  EARTH  OPENED  HER  MOUTH—"    315 

of  fumes  lurked  a  fierce  red  smouldering  glow.  He 
gazed  down,  smitten  with  awe. 

He  seemed  to  be  two  individuals,  staring  into  the 
gulf.  One — an  insane  one — ejaculated:  **Herr 
Gott!  The  headquarters  dugout  I"  The  other — 
exulting,  triumphant,  scornful  of  this  incomprehensi- 
ble madman — shouted,  like  an  antique  prophet, 
justified:  *^Disrupta  est  terra  sub  pedihus  eorumP* 
He  waved  his  arms,  lost  his  footing  and  slipped  into 
the  pit. 

^le  slid  some  distance  before  an  obstruction  ar- 
rested him,  sprawling.  He  gazed  up  at  the  crater's 
lip,  darkly  circular  against  the  sky;  and  as  he  looked 
a  projectile  arrived  with  an  ugly  unfamiliar  rush. 
The  incomprehensible  madman  in  him  identified  it 
with  those  already  heard ;  wondered  as  to  the  burst. 

A  sheet  of  flame  flashed  from  the  wall  of  the 
crater,  trickled  down  toward  him  in  a  broad  stream 
of  liquid  fire. 


XI 

PEACE 

JCHTVNGr  said  a  sergeant  gruffly.  **Less 
,^1     noise  there  I'* 

The  irregular  trench,  traversed  at  short  intervals, 
was  choked  with  close-packed  men,  above  whose 
deep-helmeted  heads  a  bayonet  glinted  faintly  here 
and  there  in  the  twilight.  The  first  stars  were  just 
beginning  to  appear  in  a  night  that  would  be  moon- 
less. Noncommissioned  officers  pushed  their  way 
through  the  throng,  verifying  the  equipment  of  their 
men,  emphasising  final  warnings  and  instructions. 
Their  tone  was  businesslike;  their  scrutiny  the  keen 
matter-of-fact  scrutiny  of  a  trainer  before  the  race. 

The  double  rank  of  men,  who  filled  the  trench 
from  traverse  to  traverse  on  a  company  front,  were 
diversely  armed.  Here  they  leaned  on  rifles,  with 
bayonets  already  fixed.  There  they  were  cramming 
into  haversacks  the  last  bombs  issued  to  them  by  cor- 
porals who  insisted  that  each  man  have  his  full 
tale.  Farther  on,  broken  into  little  groups,  they 
stood  over  the  light  machine  guns,  now  dismantled, 
which  could  be  easily  transported  and  set  up  in  an 
instant.     Their  respective  noncommissioned  officers 

316 


PEACE  S17 

completed  the  last  details  of  their  Inspection ;  swore 
gutturally  but  with  restrained  voices  at  some  man 
more  clumsy  than  his  fellows. 

The  men  stood  in  stolid  silence,  their  faces  hag- 
gard and  dirty  under  the  deep  helmets  that  all  but 
hid  them,  the  faded  grey  of  their  uniforms  yellow 
with  mud  where  a  sergeant's  torch  flashed  on  them 
for  a  moment. 

They  shivered  in  the  chill  of  the  evening.  Some 
coughed  nervously.  All  were  obviously  tense,  high- 
strung. 

In  front  of  them,  here  and  there,  men  crouched 
close  under  the  solid  wall  of  sandbags;  gazed  down 
into  the  reflectors  of  periscopes.  At  intervals 
shadowy  figures,  clustered  about  machine  guns  fitted 
in  strongly  armoured  emplacements  that  were  in- 
visible from  the  other  side,  came  into  a  brief  promi- 
nence of  movement  as  they  tested  the  arc  of  traverse 
of  the  gun  or  drew  long  belts  of  ammunition  from 
heavy  boxes. 

Every  man  in  the  trench  wore  the  same  serious, 
determined  expression.  The  methodical  precision 
of  their  movements  spoke  of  long  habit  in  the  per- 
formance of  these  tasks,  whose  gravity  was  capital. 
Death,  in  a  few  minutes,  would  be  only  warded  off 
by  the  death  they  dealt;  might  strike  them  blindly 
even  then,  despite  their  most  scientific  precaution. 

Yet  there  was  no  revolt  on  the  faces  of  these 
men.  They  were  set  in  a  gloomy  fatalism  that  over- 
rode the  tremors  of  the  quivering  body;  the  fatal- 


318  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

ism  of  men  inured  to  the  unchallengeable  caprice 
of  Death,  which  ruled  their  world  and  lurked,  at  all 
times  ready  to  swoop,  beyond  that  sandbagged  wall. 
Sooner  or  later,  in  one  of  countless  ways,  it  would 
strike.  However  many  perils  they  had  survived,  they 
were  hopeless  of  any  other  end.  A  peace  rumour 
had  long  ceased  to  be  other  than  a  subject  for  savage 
mockery.  The  war  was  an  eternity  that  had  claimed 
their  temporal  lives.  Yet  was  the  instinct  undimin- 
ished to  fight  to  the  last  for  their  continuance. 

There  was,  however,  a  special  bitterness  in  their 
sombre  souls  as  they  prepared  for  the  night's  work. 

**Dtese  verfluchte  Amerikanerf'  said  one  of  them 
suddenly,  in  a  tone  of  murderous  hatred,  as  he  tested 
the  edge  of  his  trench  knife  against  the  palm  of  his 
hand.     "Without  them " 

A  growl  of  unanimity  went  up  from  the  close 
ranks  between  the  traverses. 

"Silence  there  I'*  said  a  sergeant  in  a  sharp,  lo^ 
voice.     "You   Miiller!     You^ll  have   a  shell  5r 
usr 

The  man  addressed  grumbled  to  himself  as  I 
put  the  knife  into  its  sheath;  yet  he  was  fully  awar 
of  the  justice  of  the  inhibition. 

The  night  was  deadly  quiet.  From  those  Amer- 
ican trenches,  which,  after  a  brief  hurricane  bom- 
bardment, they  were  going  to  raid,  came  no  sound. 
The  slightest  noise  from  them  would  have  been  sig- 
nificant to  their  ears,  strained  to  a  more  intense 
pitch  of  acuteness  than  they  realised.     Far  back  be- 


l^EACE  319 

hind  them  t  gun  spoke  with  a  gruff  double  report; 
a  shell  came  whining  dolorously  overhead.  The  sharp 
crack  of  a  rifle  somewhere  along  the  trench  was 
followed  by  the  hammer  tap  of  a  machine  gun. 
These  sounds  left  no  register  on  the  men's  con- 
sciousness ;  they  were  part  of  their  habitual  environ- 
ment, as  normal  as  the  song  of  birds  to  the  plough- 
man. Their  attention  was  focused  on  those  silent 
trenches,  masked  by  the  near  sandbagged  wall,  which 
they  knew  awaited  them  at  the  other  side  of  the 
desolate,  shell-pitted  stretch  beyond  the  tangled  wire ; 
was  held  in  suspense  for  the  commencement  of  that 
furious  bombardment  whose  cessation  would  be  the 
signal  for  the  plunge. 

A  flare  went  up  from  somewhere  along  the  line 
— ^the  first  of  the  evening.     The   enemy's?     The 
%  signal  for  the  artillery?    They  waited,  holding  their 
^breath.     The  silence  continued. 

The  ofiicer  in  charge  of  the  raiding  party  stood, 
stless  and  anxious,  in  the  angle  of  a  traverse. 
.¥'rom  time  to  time  he  glanced  at  his  watch;  and 
v^s  he  raised  the  phosphorescent  dial  close  to  his 
^^Iface,  Miiller  could  see  his  boyish  countenance  faintly 
illumined  in  the  glow.  The  private  wondered  im- 
personally how  long  this  one  would  survive;  in  his; 
long  experience — he  himself  had  marched  almost 
with  the  first,  had  been  three  times  wounded,  was 
a  veteran  to  be  pointed  at — he  had  seen  so  many 
come,  strut  their  little  hour  of  harshly  accentuated 
importance  and  disappear. 


320  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

He  had  no  regrets  for  them.  They  all  came 
out  of  the  same  mould,  replaced  each  other  precisely 
similar,  superior  beings  whose  griefs  and  joys 
touched  him  not,  akin,  though  humbler  Olympiads, 
to  the  mighty  War  Lords  who  moved  him  and  his 
fellows  across  the  map  of  Europe,  flung  them  cold- 
bloodedly to  die — to  emphasise  a  diplomatic  con- 
versation. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  murmur  of  voices  farther 
along  the  trench,  out  of  sight.  A  runner  emerged 
from  it  as  he  squeezed  himself  round  the  traverse 
and  rushed  up  to  the  officer. 

"Herr  Leutnant!  Herr  LeutnantI  A  message 
— from  battalion  headquarters!'* 

Though  spent  with  what  had  evidently  been  an 
effort  of  speed  through  the  obstructed  trenches,  he 
saluted  as  he  handed  over  the  envelope. 

The  lieutenant  tore  it  open ;  flashed  his  lamp  cau- 
tiously upon  the  sheet.  Then  his  head  jerked  up 
in  a  wild  cry;  a  laugh  that  was  not  the  laugh  of 
mirth,  but  apparently  of  delirium.  The  men  set 
their  teeth  in  savage  wrath  at  this  reckless  drawing 
of  the  enemy  fire. 

"Peace!"  he  cried.  "Peace!  All  offensive  oper- 
ations are  cancelled!  It's  all  over!"  He  laughed 
boisterously,  vacuously,  like  a  man  whose  mind  has 
been  overthrown.  "The  war  is  over!  Peace  is 
signed!     Do  you  hear?" 

He  yelled  it  at  them  as  though  exasperated  at 
their  apathy.     The  ranks  of  men  did  not  move; 


PEACE  321 

stared  at  him  with  the  respect  the  German  Army 
enforces  toward  an  officer,  even  if  he  is  plainly  a 
lunatic.  The  officer  pulled  himself  together,  re- 
assumed  the  normal  tone  of  curt  authority. 

"Sergeant,  the  sentries  will  be  posted  as  usual. 
No  man  is  to  be  allowed  out  of  the  trench.  No  shot 
is  to  be  fired  except  under  the  direct  orders  of  an 
officer.  White  flags  are  to  be  hoisted  above  the 
parapet  at  fifty-yard  intervals.  White  flares  will  be 
sent  up  frequently  until  the  enemy  has  displayed 
similar  flags.  The  strictest  discipline  will  be  main- 
tained in  your  section." 

The  sergeant  saluted.  **Zu  Befehl,  Herr  Leut- 
nant." 

The  officer  hurried  round  the  traverse,  disap- 
peared. The  sergeant  stared  after  him.  Then,  with 
a  deep  breath,  he  turned  to  his  men. 

*'Sor  he  said.    ''Da  isfsT 

They  looked  at  him  from  their  unbroken  ranks  in 
silence.  This  was  incredible — fantastic.  The  end 
of  the  war  I  Like  this — without  warning — at  the 
moment  when  the  attack  was  ready  to  spring?  The 
end?  Peace?  Reprieve?  The  genuine  ring  of  the 
curt  orders  compelled  a  credence  refused  to  the  wild 
assertion. 

''Mein  GottT  Miiller  heard  the  ejaculation  be- 
fore he  realised  it  was  his  own. 

This  vast  event  appalled  him.  The  thing  was 
too  big  to  grasp.  The  others  exchanged  furtive 
looks  under  their  helmets,  each  trying  to  model 


S22  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

himself  on  his  comrade.  They  shuffled  awkwardly, 
glanced  sheepishly  toward  the  sergeant,  at  a  loss 
for  word  or  act.  Their  presence  here  was  suddenly 
bereft  of  purpose.  An  epoch  of  timeless  age  had 
come  to  an  end.    The  new  had  not  yet  begun. 

A  ragged  cheer  at  a  little  distance  along  the 
trench,  whither  the  officer  had  disappeared,  sounded 
an  awakening  note  of  reality.  The  sergeant  rose 
to  this  historic  moment. 

"You  think  you  can  do  as  you  like  now,  I  sup- 
pose!" he  said  with  the  jeering  brutality  of  the  petty 
tyrant.  He  glared  at  the  patient  squad  as  at  so 
many  victims;  was  about  to  continue,  when  he 
stopped — cocked  his   ear. 

Far  back  a  gun  had  boomed.  They  heard  the 
wailing  passage  of  the  shell  with  a  new  acuteness — 
a  sudden  terror;  a  sickening  collapse.  Not  true 
after  all?  A  dream?  Madness  of  the  lieutenant? 
They  listened,  fixed  in  their  attitudes,  in  an  agony 
of  apprehension — second  after  second.  No  other 
detonation  followed. 

There  was  no  sound  from  the  enemy  trenches. 
The  silence  was  unbroken.  They  did  not  even  hear 
the  shell  explode.  They  strained  their  ears.  Not  a 
gun  spoke  in  all  the  wide  night.  They  had  heard 
the  last  shell  I  The  memory  of  its  sear  across  the 
dark  sky  was  suddenly  vivid  in  them  with  its  full 
significance — the  last  I 

The  man  Muller  filled  his  lungs  as  with  a  new 
atmosphere.    Something  seemed  to  drop  away  from 


PEACE  S2S 

him.  The  savage  who  had  fingered  the  knife, 
who  had  lusted  for  blood,  was  suddenly  for- 
eign to  him.  He  felt  bewildered.  A  vast  pendulum, 
on  which  he  had  been  swinging  for  an  endless  time, 
had  suddenly  stopped.  His  first  sensation  was  of 
an  immense,  a  crushing  fatigue.  Sleep — oblivion; 
it  was  an  imperative  need  of  his  being.  To-morrow 
he  would  face  this  overwhelming  fact.  Sleep — un- 
broken by  alarms;  so  much  he  grasped  from  this 
immeasureable  boon  that  had  at  last  descended  up- 
on a  world  grown  sceptic  of  its  appearance. 

It  was  not  to  be.  He  heard  the  sergeant  detailing 
his  men;  found  himself  assigned  to  sentry  duty.  The 
others  stumbled  off  to  execute  their  orders ;  returned 
with  the  articles  they  had  been  told  to  fetch.  The 
trench  was  a  turmoil  of  feverish  men,  desperately 
at  work  as  though  they  feared  the  murderous  shot 
might  come  ere  they  had  hoisted  the  signal  of  pro- 
tection. Some  ripped  white  sandbags  into  broad 
sheets.  Others  nailed  them  to  poles.  Yet  another 
had  opened  the  box  of  flares;  stood  ready  with 
loaded  pistol  to  fire  the  first. 

Farther  along  the  trench  the  white  lights  were 
already  soaring  up  amid  wild  shouts  and  tumultuous 
cheers.  They  also  cheered — cheered  like  madmen, 
intoxicated  with  their  own  clamour,  in  an  overmas- 
tering frenzy  that  gushed  from  the  bottom  of  their 
souls,  their  loudest  vociferation  yet  inadequate  to 
express  this  vast  relief  they  were  now  beginning 
to  comprehend — as  their  first  flag  was  planted  upon 


SU  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

the  parapet,  showing  sharply  silhouetted  above  their 
heads  in  the  brilliance  of  the  first  flare. 

Miiller  caught  himself  half  expecting  a  rush  of 
excited  Americans  into  their  trench;  cordial  hand- 
shakes; mutual  enthusiasm.  But  flare  after  flare 
soared  into  a  night  that  echoed  no  cries  but  their 
own.  The  American  trenches  lay  silent,  out  of 
sight,  firing  no  shot,  uttering  no  sound.  A  regularly 
spaced  row  of  flapping  flags  now  surmounted  the 
parapet;  were  illuminated  by  incessantly  soaring, 
curving  flares.  The  sky  was  white  into  the  far 
distance  on  either  hand  with  a  radiance  of  similar 
origin.  Still  the  American  trenches  gave  no  sign  of 
life.  The  German  soldiers,  crowded  on  the  firestep, 
gazed  toward  them  with  eager  curiosity.  A  row  of 
flags,  reflecting  whiteness  as  they  fluttered  in  the 
blanched  glare  of  the  falling  lights,  surmounted  them 
also;  were  the  sole  evidence  of  occupation. 

Exasperated  by  this  obstinate  silence,  a  German 
soldier  seized  a  megaphone  and  shouted  with  all 
his  lungs  across  to  them  in  English:  "Hi!  You 
Americans !     It's  peace  I     Peace  I" 

There  was  a  pause.  Then  a  megaphoned  reply 
came  booming  across:  **We  know!  We  won't 
hurt  you." 

Baflled  by  the  sarcasm,  the  German  soldiers  re- 
nounced the  attempt  at  conversation,  congregated  in 
little  groups  for  excited  talk  among  themselves. 
What  they  were  going  to  do  when  they  returned 
home — it  was  one  theme,  with  infinite  variations. 


PEACE  325 

Miiller  stood  at  his  post,  breast-high  above  the 
parapet,  gazing  across  that  strip  of  ground  which  so 
long  had  been  under  the  ban  of  terror,  scarcely  to 
be  spied  into;  to  be  entered  only  furtively  by  the 
grace  of  a  precarious  darkness,  death-cheated  at 
every  moment  of  sojourn.  Though  the  menace  was 
removed,  its  desolate  solitude  was  still  sinister.  In 
all  the  months  and  years  of  war  how  many  multi- 
tudes had  surged  across  it,  uniformed  in  the  fashion 
of  the  moment,  shouting  in  the  different  tongues  of 
many  lands,  their  faces  contorted  with  the  passion 
and  the  fear  of  the  death  conflict !  How  many  had 
been  annihilated  in  the  spasm  of  their  own  murder- 
ous thrust!  How  many  had  flung  up  their  arms 
in  one  wild  cry  upon  a  woman  despairfully  vivid 
to  them  I  How  many  had  wrestled  desperately — 
body  to  body — for  a  dear  life  that  was  denied  I  How 
many  had  lingered,  inexorably  doomed,  through  the 
eternities  of  blazing  sun,  of  frost-chilled  nights,  hung 
on  the  tangled  wire  whose  hold  they  could  not  loosen, 
prone  in  the  shell  holes  they  could  not  scale  I 

It  lay  now  in  an  uncanny  silence  after  its  long 
torment  of  vicious  shell  bursts,  of  every  kind  of 
violent  detonation;  a  place  of  horror  abandoned  to 
Its  dead.  The  last  cry  had  ceased  from  the  trenches 
that  inclosed  it;  the  last  flare  had  spluttered  into 
darkness.  A  sky  sown  full  of  stars  arched  over  it, 
unsullied  by  any  terrestrial  reflection.  From  their 
unthinkable  remoteness,  this  innumerable  multitude 
of  worlds  and  superworlds,  holding — like  this  petty 


^6  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

•globe,  invisible  to  them — their  mysterious  course 
through  infinite  space  during  aeon  after  aeon,  illu- 
imined  this  hushed  arena  with  the  last  pin-point  rays 
of  their  blazing  grandeur  as  indifferently  as  for  so 
many  hundred  nights  they  had  shone  upon  Its 
clamorous  agitation.  Miiller  looked  up  to  them 
in  the  awe  of  this  silence,  so  Impressive  in  its  new 
and  strange  security,  anid  felt  suddenly  the  full 
measure  of  his  insignificance;  of  the  insignificance  of 
that  merciless  conflict,  which  to  him  had  seemed  so 
colossal,  so  all-pervading,  and  which  had  now  ceased 
without — for  him  at  least — decisive  victory  or  de- 
feat. He  glanced  over  the  rusty  wire  that  still  held 
sacklike  objects  upon  its  barbs,  across  the  shell-riven 
wilderness  where  so  many  young  lives  had  gasped 
their  final  breath;  where  more  tragedies  had 
screamed  in  vain  than  all  the  tribunals  of  Europe 
had  avenged  in  a  hundred  years. 

It  stretched  away,  to  right  and  left  of  him,  with- 
out a  cry,  in  a  brooding  hush;  a  corridor  left  for 
Death  to  pace  in  an  ultimate  computation  of  his 
harvest;  left  clear  through  every  variant  of  land- 
scape, hill  and  valley,  woodland  and  open  plain  from 
the  Alps  to  the  sea,  which  tossed  its  running  waves 
over  the  dead  there  also. 

He  shuddered  in  a  sudden,  unwontcdly  acute  per- 
ception of  the  dreadful  futility  of  it  all.  Solitary 
there  in  the  night,  he  was  appalled  with  the  magni- 
tude of  the  destruction  that  had  been  wrought.  His 
mind  revolted  from  it.    Peace !    He  breathed  a  sigh 


PEACE  327 

of  thankfulness;  a  thankfulness  which  ignored  re- 
sponsibility and  retribution.  He  thought  of  his  own 
home  in  the  German  manufacturing  town;  of  the 
harmless  interests  he  had  forgotten. 

An  immense  longing  for  comradeship  welled  up 
in  him;  a  comradeship  that  should  know  no  dis- 
tinction of  race  or  speech;  a  comradeship  that  was 
the  full  reaction  from  this  bitter  enmity  in  which 
he  had  lived  so  long.  He  glanced  across  to  the 
silent  American  trenches,  their  regularly  spaced  flags 
darkly  silhouetted  against  the  luminous  blue-black 
of  the  horizon,  and  longed  for  dawn  and  the  human 
confirmation  of  the  pact. 

He  had  been  relieved,  had  had  some  two  hours  of 
sleep,  when  the  trench  woke  again  to  life  in  the  first 
grey  of  the  morning.  He  opened  his  eyes  with  the 
haunting  consciousness  of  some  great  happening  just 
over  the  rim  of  memory,  the  vague  sense  of  a  destiny 
recently  and  definitely  changed.  His  partially 
roused  brain  could  not  at  first  recall  the  circum- 
stances ;  was  baiBed  by  a  feeling  that  he  had  wakened 
to  just  such  an  emotion  once  before  in  his  life.  He 
fixed  on  that  feeling  of  the  past  as  a  clue  to  the 
present  queried  possibilities. 

The  morning  of  an  attack?  A  cold  thrill  ran 
through  him;  his  stomach  sank  at  this  only  too  apt 
probability.  Then,  in  a  sudden  revulsion,  the  truth 
flooded  in  on  him :  Peace  I  Wonderful,  miraculous 
peace  I  A  pertinaciously  scientific  little  portion  of 
his  mind  at  the  same  moment  identified  the  previpuf 


328  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

emotion  with  which  he  had  felt  the  analogy — it  had 
been  his  wedding  morning.  And  now  the  two  mem- 
mories  coalesced  and  re-enforced  each  other — peace ; 
his  wife;  home! 

"Mein  GottT  he  murmured,  staring  straight  be- 
fore him  without  stirring  from  his  niche  in  the 
parapet  of  the  trench.     ^'Lottchenf    Die  Kinder T' 

He  stared  at  his  rose-hung  house  he  had  left — 
how  many  ages  ago? — on  that  hot  summer  morning; 
saw  Lottchen  in  tears,  turning  away  from  him, 
snatching  up  the  youngest-born  in  a  passionate  ges- 
ture of  despair  as  he  waved  farewell.  He  was  over- 
whelmed with  this  incredible  certainty  that  he  would 
return  to  it — to  happiness — permanently.  He  felt 
like  a  man  waking  from  a  vivid  dream  of  the  con- 
demned cell,  execution  imminent,  to  reassurance  of 
continued  life. 

A  great  gush  of  affection  for  his  wife  was  un- 
sealed in  him.  He  yearned  out  to  her,  to  the  chil- 
dren, to  home.  He  visualised  his  return;  thought, 
with  a  little  glow  of  vanity,  how  proud  she  would 
be  of  him  with  his  Iron  Cross;  with  his  participa- 
tion in  so  many  victories. 

It  was  something,  after  all,  to  have  fought  in  the 
war.  Now,  of  course,  the  thing  to  do — his  mind 
reverted  to  the  Americans  in  their  trenches — was  to 
shake  hands;  to  start  business  again.  He  did  not 
know  the  terms  of  peace;  but  he  felt  comfortably 
certain  that  a  German  who  had  fought  brilliantly 


PEACE  S29 

against  so  many  embattled  nations  was  assured  of 
the  respectful  admiration  of  the  entire  world. 

These  thoughts  and  many  others  coursed  through 
his  brain  as  he  lay  luxuriating  in  the  consciousness 
that  he  had  not  to  get  up  to  fire  his  rifle  through 
a  loophole  or  restore  a  damaged  traverse  under  the 
imminent  menace  of  a  shell.  They  were  cut  short 
by  the  clamour  of  voices,  the  rush  of  many  feet  just 
outside.  The  company  was  falling  in.  He  roscy 
stiff  with  rheumatism,  from  his  earthen  couch. 

At  first,  despite  the  murmured  protests  of  the  men, 
they  were  not  allowed  to  leave  the  trench.  The 
officers  awaited  orders. 

Over  the  parapet  they  could  see  groups  of  slouch- 
hatted  Americans  interring  the  dead  on  their  side 
of  No  Man's  Land.  From  the  long  row  of  eagerly 
curious  German  faces  who  watched  them  came  a 
continual  shouting  of  English  words,  which  elicited 
no  response. 

Miiller  found  himself  searching  his  memory  for 
scraps  of  that  vocabulary  he  had  learned  during  a 
short  stay  In  England  years  before.  He  craved  to 
take  part,  also,  in  this  demonstration  of  friendliness, 
impelled  perhaps  by  an  obscure  desire  to  make  quite 
sure  that  this  new  era  of  peace  applied  to  him,  the 
individual;  that  his  personal  danger  was  past.  He 
felt  jealous  of  the  man  on  his  right  who  insisted 
on  explaining  to  him  that  he  had  lived  many  years 
in  America,  and  that  he  was  going  back  to  his  old 
friends  and  business. 


mo  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

'*Jch,  Miiller,"  said  the  soldier — "America! 
What  is  that  for  a  country!  It  is  a  freedom  you 
have  no  idea  of.  No  interfering  police.  No  con- 
scription. No  crushing  taxes.  No  officers  treating 
you  like  a  dog.  Nothing  to  prevent  your  thinking 
what  you  like,  saying  what  you  like,  doing  what  you 
like — except,  of  course,  that  you  cannot  commit 
crimes  as  you  like.  Plenty  of  money!  The  first 
year  I  was  there  I  made " 

'7^;  ich  weiss  schon/^  said  Miiller  curtly.  "And 
you  are  going  back,  Konnecke?** 

"Sure  thing!"  replied  his  comrade  in  American; 
then,  in  German :  "I  take  the  first  steamer  back  after 
I  am  demobilised." 

At  that  moment  an  underofficer  came  along  and 
gave  permission  for  the  men  to  leave  the  trench. 
They,  also,  were  to  bury  the  dead  in  the  neutral 
ground.  The  Germans  streamed  out  through  lanes 
snipped  in  the  rusty  wire,  leaving  their  weapons 
behind  them.  For  the  first  few  moments  in  the 
open  they  realised  anew  that  impressive,  continuing 
silence  of  the  guns,  were  awed  into  hushed  voices, 
their  movements  furtive  in  the  strangeness  of  this 
Unthreatened  exposure  among  the  shell  holes  at 
which  yesterday  they  could  not  have  dared  a  direct 
glance. 

The  Americans  continued  to  work  on  their  side 
of  the  ground,  glancing  toward  the  approaching  Ger- 
mans with  a  brief  laugh  and  word  among  themselves 
fts  they  delved  among  the  heaps  of  earth. 


PEACE  331 

Konnecke  went  straight  toward  them  and  Miiller 
felt  that  he  could  not  do  better  than  to  attach  himt 
self  to  this  experienced  ambassador.  He  wondered 
what  would  be  that  first  word  from  their  late  adverr 
saries,  which,  with  Teutonic  sentimentality,  he  felt 
would  typify  the  resumption  of  international  rela- 
tions. A  compliment  on  their  military  prowess?  He 
prepared  himself  for  a  courteous  reception  of  this 
most  probable  salutation,  framed  ready  for  utter- 
ance an  elegant  phrase  of  reciprocal  esteem. 

Konnecke  headed  directly  toward  a  tall  noncom- 
missioned officer  who  stood  superintending  the  ex- 
cavation of  a  long  grave.  Miiller  followed  close 
behind  his  comrade. 

*'Howdy,  sergeant  I"  said  Konnecke  confidently^ 
in  his  best  American  accent.  ''Guess  you'll  be  glad 
to  get  quit  of  this  undertaking  business?'' 

The  American  favoured  him  with  just  the  smallest 
fraction  of  a  glance  under  his  eyelid. 

"No,"  he  replied  coolly;  "I'd  bury  quite  a  lot 
more  of  you." 

The  German  was  disconcerted  by  the  level,  un- 
emotional tone  of  the  snub.  Nevertheless,  he  grinned 
in  a  fashion  meant  to  be  Ingratiating.  Miiller's  high 
anticipation  sank.  After  his  imagined  heroics,  this 
matter-of-fact  reception  was  humiliating.  He  re- 
sented this  cool  barrier  of  reserve,  was  exasperated 
into  a  blind  desire  to  penetrate  it.  At  the  back  of 
his  mind  was  the  explanation  that  the  American 


j882  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

was  too  dull  to  appreciate  the  wonderful  qualities 
of  the  German  soldier. 

Konnecke  spoke  again  before  Muller  could  finish 
his  slow  preparation  of  a  fitting  phrase. 

"Reckon  you'll  be  sure  glad  to  get  back  to  the 
old  States,"  he  ventured,  renewing  his  grin.  "This 
is  no  country  for  a  white  man — say,  now!"  He 
glanced  over  the  desolation  of  No  Man's  Land. 

The  American  also  glanced  over  his  environment. 

"That's  so,"  he  agreed. 

"I'm  going  back,  myself,"  pursued  Konnecke — 
^*first  steamer  that  leaves  Hamburg — back  to  my 
store  in  Cincinnati.  I'm  going  right  back  to  God's 
own  country — a  sure-enough  American  citizen,  first 
thing  you  know." 

The  American  turned  slowly  on  his  heel  and  faced 
the  grinning  German.  He  surveyed  him  deliberately 
from  head  to  foot.  Konnecke  waited  complacently 
through  the  pause,  as  though  expecting  a  pat  on  the 
back. 

"You're  some  optimist!"  said  the  American 
grimly. 

With  an  abrupt  movement,  he  seized  Konnecke 
by  the  shoulder  and  spun  him  round  so  that  he 
looked  down  the  dreary  vista  between  the  trenches. 
The  battle  lines  in  this  area  had  met  in  a  village; 
but  of  that  village  there  was  nothing  more  than  a 
few  heaps  of  pulverised  brick,  scarcely  to  be  re- 
marked on  the  naked  desolation  of  the  ridge. 

"See   there!"   continued   the   American,   with  a. 


PEACE  333 

sudden  viciousness  In  his  tone,  pointing  to  that  ob- 
literated village.  "That's  you!  I  guess  the  States 
can  get  on  very  well  without  you." 

He  released  his  grasp  so  brusquely  that  Konnecke, 
dazed  by  this  sudden  hostility,  stumbled,  and  all  but 
fell.  The  American  strode  off.  Miiller  looked  after 
him  for  a  moment;  then,  on  a  sudden  impulse  to 
put  himself  right  with  the  world — personified  at 
this  instant  by  the  American  noncommissioned  officer 
— he  followed  him  and  overtook  him.  His  virtuous 
indignation  was  a  stimulus  to  his  remembrance  of 
the  English  tongue. 

*'Stop,  sergeant  I"  he  cried.  The  American  swung 
round  and  disdainfully  awaited  what  he  had  to  say. 
Miiller  had  his  first  sentence  glib.  "You  are  not 
just  to  us,"  he  said.  "Germany  fought  to  defend 
herself  against  a  ring  of  jealous  enemies.  We  did 
not  start  It.     Has  not  our  Kaiser  said  it  always? 

But  our  victories — surely  they  entitle  us  to — to " 

He  faltered,  trying  to  think  of  the  English  for  "our 
place  In  the  sun." 

The  grey  eyes  of  the  American  abashed  him  with 
their  steady  scrutiny. 

"YouVe  hit  it.  Mister  Boche,"  he  said  deliber- 
ately. "It's  just  them  victories.  This  world  ain't 
safe  with  a  crowd  in  It  that  makes  so  darned  sure 
of  victories  as  you  do.  We've  quit  fighting;  but  I 
guess  if  you're  calculating  on  shaking  hands,  and 
kissing  all  round,  you're  in  error.  No,  sir;  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  Is  to  beat  it  to  a  quiet  corner  and 


S84  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

sit  there,  and  maybe  in  about  a  hundred  years 
folk'U  have  forgotten  about  your  dirty  spies  and  all 
your  mean  underhand  ways. 

*' Maybe  folk'U  forget  about  the  women  and  chil* 
dren  and  old  men  you  shot  I  Maybe  folk'U  forget 
about  the  wounded  men  you  drowned;  the  villages 
and  towns  that  ain't  no  more  now  than  a  bit  of  hell 
on  earth  I  Maybe  folk'U  forget  about  Belgium  and 
the  Lusitania,  and  all  the  rest!  Maybe  some  day 
folk'U  be  able  to  think  of  a  boche  without  turning 
sick.  But  that  ain't  now;  and  America  has  got  no 
use  for  a  crowd  like  you !  We  just  want  to  forget 
you.  And  I  guess  your  other  Europeans  feel  the 
same  way  about  it." 

He  spat,  as  though  in  disgust  at  having  been  be- 
trayed into  such  loquacity,  turned  once  more  on 
his  heel,  and  strode  off. 

Miiller  stood  watching  him  like  a  man  half 
stunned.  On  this  first  wonderful  morning  every  in- 
cident was  pregnant  with  significance;  and  this  sen- 
tence of  banishment,  though  it  came  but  from  the 
mouth  of  a  noncommissioned  officer  of  their  late 
enemies,  was  delivered  with  such  reasoned  delibera- 
tion, such  calm  superiority,  as  to  impress  him  vivid- 
ly. He  felt  suddenly  homeless,  friendless  in  a  hostile 
world.  He  tried  to  banish  the  uncomfortable  feed- 
ing. They — all  the  other  millions  on  this  planet — 
could  not  possibly  decree  an  effective  ostracism  of 
the  entire  German  people.    The  idea  was  absurd  I 

He  looked  toward  the  crowd  of  his  comrades  In- 


I 


PEACE  335 

sinuatlng  themselves  pertinaciously  among  the  tall, 
soft-hatted  Americans,  and  marked  with  resentment 
the  contemptuous  downward  glance  upon  the  round 
cap  of  the  bullet-headed,  under-sized  figure  no  longer 
lurking  behind  his  machine  gun  in  an  intrenchment. 
He  thought  of  the  splendid  fellows  who  had 
marched  to  war  with  him  In  the  early  days,  and  was 
impelled  to  cry  out  in  protest  that  these  Germans 
were  not  typical;  that  the  manhood  of  Germany 
was  dead  upon  Its  battlefields.  The  behaviour  of 
these  degenerates  filled  him  with  bitter  anger.  Ac- 
cepting no  rebuflF,  making  the  most  of  the  monosyl- 
labic replies  they  received,  they  ventured  to  laugh,  to 
become  loquacious,  determined  to  extort  friendli- 
ness, even  though  servility  were  the  price  of  it. 

"No  use  for  a  crowd  like  you  I" — the  phrase 
haunted  him  with  Its  terrible  accent  of  sincerity. 
After  all  the  sacrifices — all  the  blood  and  tears — 
this!  Hatred  he  could  have  accepted  with  pride — 
It  would  have  been  a  tribute;  but  this  disdain  that 
denied  even  contact!  A  cold  fear  invaded  him — a 
presentiment  he  refused  to  accept  as  probable. 

George  Miiller  leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  a  first- 
class  railroad  carriage.  He  was  in  civilian  clothes — 
the  same  suit  In  which  he  had  reported  himself  to 
the  depot  on  that  first  morning  of  mobilisation,  years 
back.  To-day  he  wore  It  again  for  the  first  time. 
The  last  demonstration  of  the  wonderful  military 
machine  of  which  for  so  long  he  had  formed  part 


336  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

had  been  handed  him  back,  neatly  ticketed — that  once 
familiar  suit  of  clothes  which  now  looked  so  strange. 
It  hung  loosely  upon  him,  was  no  longer  fashionable ; 
but  he  wore  it  with  a  sense  of  luxury.  This  civilian 
attire  was  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  his  eman- 
cipation from  the  servitude  that  had  crushed  his  in- 
dividuality so  long.  He  felt  like  a  prisoner  released 
from  jail,  returned  to  the  world  of  the  living,  where 
his  personal  inclinations  once  more  had  scope.  A 
new  life  was  beginning  for  him ;  a  life  that  had  been 
in  suspense  from  that  wonderful  evening  in  the 
trenches  when,  all  unexpectedly,  the  end  had  come. 

Leaning  back,  with  closed  eyes,  he  recapitulated 
the  event — slurring  over  the  episode  of  the  American 
sergeant's  rebuff,  which  persisted,  not  to  be  abolished, 
in  his  memory;  tasting  once  more  the  joy  of  march- 
ing away  forever  from  that  ghastly  battlefield;  an- 
gry once  again  at  the  suddenly  hostile  attitude  of  the 
French  population  in  their  concentration  area;  it 
had  been  impossible  to  purchase  any  of  the  ordinary 
dainties  of  life,  and  a  strict  order  had  enforced  the 
utmost  correctness  of  demeanour  toward  these  surly 
hosts  no  longer  constrained  to  courtesy;  thrilling  once 
more  with  the  jubilant  enthusiasm  of  the  trainload 
of  soldiers  returning  to  the  Fatherland;  bitter  at  the 
long  administrative  delays  that  had  adjourned  their 
final  demobilisation. 

But  now  it  was  all  over.  He  was  himself  again; 
no  longer  a  mere  number  in  field  grey,  but  a  husband 
and  father  hurrying  back  to  his  wife  and  children. 


PEACE  337 

Once  more  he  was  to  take  up  the  task  of  earning 
a  livelihood  for  them.  This  thought  appeared  sud- 
denly at  the  tail  of  his  idle  reverie,  as  it  had  recurred 
again  and  again  in  every  quiet  moment  since  that  first 
morning  of  peace. 

Work  and  earn!  It  was  a  necessity  that  would 
bear  no  postponement.  His  little  capital  had  almost 
been  spent  in  keeping  his  family  alive  during  the 
famine  prices  of  the  years  of  war.  He  would  have 
to  start  afresh. 

Once  more,  as  he  had  done  a  dozen  times  already 
on  the  journey,  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  letter 
from  the  director  of  the  factory  where  he  had  been 
works  manager. 

"Dear  Miiller,"  it  ran,  *'I  much  regret  that  I  can- 
not give  you  an  idea  of  when  we  shall  reopen.  We 
find  it  absolutely  impossible  to  procure  raw  material ; 
and  even  if  we  could  get  it  our  foreign  agents  in- 
form us  that  it  is  hopeless  to  expect  to  trade  until 
the  prejudice  against  us  is  abated.  It  is  a  terrible 
situation.  The  working  classes  here  are  almost  des- 
perate. You  may  rest  assured  that  at  the  first  op- 
portunity we  shall  again  avail  ourselves  of  your 
services.'* 

Miiller  reread  the  letter,  though  long  ere  this 
he  could  have  repeated  it  word  for  word.  But  in 
the  uncertainty  of  his  prospects  his  mind  derived  a 
gloomy  satisfaction  from  this  definite  negative. 
What  could  he  do?  Emigrate  to  America?  He 
remembered  the  American  sergeant's  words,  the  cold 


338  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

aloofness  of  the  American  troops,  and  rejected  the 
idea.  The  situation  was  serious.  He  counted  over 
his  slender  resources,  with  a  feeling  of  regret  that 
he  had  yielded  to  the  extravagant  impulse  to  take 
a  first-class  ticket.  He  had  not  been  able  to  re- 
sist the  fascination — after  all  these  years  of  cattle 
trucks  and  third-class  carriages — of  travelling  first 
class,  as  of  old.  It  had  seemed  to  him  the  re-estab- 
lishment of  his  identity. 

He  put  away  the  letter  and  picked  up  a  news- 
paper. The  first  heading  to  catch  his  eye  was  The 
Raw-Materials  Crisis,  in  fat  Gothic  type.  The  ar- 
ticle dealt  at  length  and  plaintively  with  the  terrible 
disadvantage  of  German  industry  in  its  contest  with 
competitors  who,  during  the  war,  had  seized  the 
principal  sources  of  raw  materials  throughout  the 
world. 

An  adjacent  column  described  another  crisis.  The 
Crisis  in  Shipping,  and  bewailed  the  fact  that  It 
was  impossible  to  find  cargo  space  for  the  millions 
of  tons  of  ready-manufactured  goods  which  Ger- 
many had  waiting  for  export.  It  showed  statistically 
the  Immense  diminution  in  the  volume  of  the  world's 
shipping  since  August,  19 14. 

"They  can  thank  their  damned  U-boats  for  that!" 
commented  Miiller,  with  a  curiously  impersonal  bit- 
terness; he  dissociated  himself  completely  from 
those  governing  classes  over  whom  he  had  no  con- 
trol; was  rancorously  hostile. 

The  train  stopped  at  an  Important  station.     He 


PEACE  339 

left  his  hat  on  his  seat  to  mark  his  proprietorship 
and  went  out  into  the  corridor.  A  minute  later  he 
turned  to  see  an  imposing  Oberst  in  full  uniform, 
accompanied  by  a  silk-hatted,  frock-coated  civilian 
— obviously  a  functionary  of  some  sort — entering 
his  compartment.  Through  the  window  he  saw  the 
colonel  unbuckle  his  sword  and  throw  it  on  the 
rack,  and  then  coolly  remove  the  hat  from  the  seat, 
preparatory  to  sitting  in  the  corner.  In  a  moment 
Miiller  had  re-entered  the  compartment. 

"Pardon,  Herr  Oberst,"  he  said  politely;  **but 
that  seat  is  occupied.'' 

The  colonel  glared  at  him. 

"Sit  somewhere  else  I"  he  replied  harshly,  and 
prepared  to  take  possession. 

A  blind  fury  surged  up  in  the  ex-soldier,  the  ac- 
cumulated fury  of  countless  brutalities  hitherto  un- 
resented.  He  sprang  at  the  officer,  gripped  his  wrist 
in  a  hand  of  steel,  and  flung  him  violently  out  of  the 
seat. 

"I  do  not  choose  to,"  he  said;  his  eyes  met  the 
colonel's  in  a  glare  of  cold  hatred  that  was  almost 
insane  in  its  sudden  vehemence. 

With  a  wild  oath  the  officer  leaped  for  his  sword. 
He  found  himself  once  more  powerless  in  an  in- 
exorable grip,  forced  down  to  a  seat.  Almost 
speechless  with  rage  he  noted  the  close-cropped  head 
of  his  adversary  and  recognised  him  for  a  demob- 
ilised soldier. 

"Choose  I"  he  cried.     "You  think  you  can  do  as 


340  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

you  like  now,  I  suppose.     FU  teach  you!     Dog!" 

Miiller  smiled  grimly  at  this  plagiarism  of  his 
sergeant's  historic  remark,  this  naiVe  avowal  of  the 
standpoint  of  the  ruling  caste.  With  a  newfound 
dignity  he  resumed  his  own  seat.  He  felt  curiously 
elated,  as  though  he  had  burst  some  secret  chain 
about  his  life;  the  elation  of  the  suddenly  inspired 
pagan  who  has  overthrown  his  gods. 

The  colonel  continued  to  glare  at  him  malevo- 
lently, muttering  to  himself  the  while.  Miiller 
ignored  him.  The  train  had  started.  The  next  stop 
was  his  destination,  which  would  end  the  episode. 

The  colonel  commenced  a  conversation  with  his 
civilian  companion  and  almost  immediately  the  name 
of  his  native  town  awakened  the  ex-soldier's  atten- 
tion. Hidden  behind  his  newspaper,  he  listened  with 
a  growing  interest  that  speedily  became  acute.  Ap- 
parently there  was  grave  industrial  trouble — wilful 
damage  to  shops  and  factories;  mobs  clamouring 
for  work  and  food;  rioting. 

He  deduced  that  the  civilian  was  a  government 
commissioner,  the  Oberst  a  newly  appointed  mili- 
tary commandant  of  the  area;  both  on  a  mission  to 
suppress  the  trouble.  With  increasing  alarm  he 
heard  them  mention  various  localities  that  had  been 
sacked.  Thank  God,  his  own  house  was  in  a  sub- 
urb of  the  town  I  In  all  probability  Lottchen  and 
the  children  would  not  be  molested.  He  let  his  mind 
dwell  on  the  dear  ones  he  had  not  seen  for  so  many 


PEACE  341 

months.  Another  half  hour  and  he  should  be  clasp- 
ing them  to  his  breast ! 

He  looked  through  the  window  and  watched  with 
impatience  the  countryside,  which  seemed  to  roll 
back  so  slowly,  pivoting  on  distant  trees  and 
churches.  Here  and  there  were  factories  in  a  clus- 
ter. He  noted  that  no  smoke  came  from  any  of 
their  chimneys.  A  few  miserable-looking  women 
were  working  in  the  fields;  but  generally  the  view 
was  deserted. 

This  emptiness  of  the  landscape  impressed  him 
unpleasantly;  the  entire  countryside  seemed  to  be 
under  a  ban.  His  mind  reverted  to  a  clumsy  school- 
boy visualisation  of  an  interdict;  came  back  from  it 
to  the  present.  If  the  rest  of  the  world  had  excom- 
municated the  Germans — as  it  seemed — they  would 
soon  be  fighting  murderously  among  themselves  for 
the  means  of  existence,  like  marooned  criminals  on 
a  desert  island.  He  revolted  from  the  prospect. 
He  was  utterly  weary  of  strife.  Peace!  Peace! 
He  craved  for  it  with  all  his  soul.  The  war  was  a 
nightmare  he  wanted  only  to  forget. 

The  train  pulled  into  his  destination;  stopped. 
He  noticed  an  unusually  large  group  of  policemen 
on  the  platform  as  he  descended  from  his  compart- 
ment. A  moment  later  he  heard  the  voice  of  the 
Oberst  behind  him,  shouting  to  attract  attention.  In- 
voluntarily he  glanced  round;  saw  himself  pointed 
at  by  the  officer. 


342  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"Arrest  that  man!"  cried  the  coloned.  "Insult 
to  the  uniform!'' 

A  policeman  clutched  at  him.  Miiller  flung  him 
off  In  a  wild,  reckless  revolt.  He  would  not  be 
stayed  thus  on  the  threshold  of  his  home.  He  found 
himself  fighting  furiously  with  a  group.  Overpow- 
ered, he  sank  under  a  stunning  blow  from  a  sheathed 
sword. 

Three  policemen  dragged  him  to  his  feet;  hauled 
him  along  the  platform  in  the  wake  of  the  colonel 
and  his  civilian  companion.  He  saw  the  local  chief 
of  police  salute  the  Oberst,  go  with  him  through 
the  exit,  followed  by  a  posse  of  his  men.  In  the 
firm  grasp  of  his  captors,  Miiller  also  was  hurried 
off  the  platform  and  through  the  lofty  hall  beyond. 

As  they  emerged  from  the  station  into  the  Bahn- 
hof-Platz  the  roar  of  an  angry  mob  smote  them  like 
a  squall.  Beyond  a  clear  space  close  at  hand,  where 
stood  a  couple  of  motor  cars,  was  a  dense  mass  of 
people,  who  howled  and  shouted  as  they  waved  a 
forest  of  fists  above  their  heads.  Police,  on  foot 
and  mounted,  kept  them  back  from  the  station  exit 
by  desperate  efforts,  which  had  constantly  to  be  re- 
newed. 

^^Brotl  BrotT*  came  one  insistent  cry  from  the 
mob,  dominating  the  chaos  of  vituperations,  of 
senseless  catcalls,  of  vile  words  that  were  the  sim- 
plest expression  of  bitter  hatred. 

They  surged  forward  again  and  again  in  tumultu- 


PEACE  343 

ous  rushes,  stemmed  at  last  by  the  vigorously  strug- 
gling police,  only  to  break  loose  elsewhere. 

The  Oberst  put  on  his  monocle  and  stared  upon 
the  mob  with  cool  contempt.  A  shower  of  stones 
hurtled  past  him,  shattered  the  station  windows  at 
his  back.    He  turned  to  the  chief  of  police. 

"The  town  is  under  martial  law,"  he  said. 
"Charge  those  dogs  for  me  I    Mounted  men  I" 

The  chief  of  police  blew  a  shrill  blast  upon  his 
whistle.  A  troop  of  mounted  policemen  trotted  up 
and  formed  their  ranks  in  the  open  space.  Other 
mounted  men  joined  them  from  the  fringe  of  the 
crowd.  The  chief  of  police  gave  his  orders.  There 
was  a  flash  of  swords  drawn  from  the  scabbard,  a 
curt  command  above  the  uproar.  The  troop  put 
spurs  to  their  horses.  For  a  second  the  only  sound 
was  the  clattering  of  hoofs  upon  the  pavement,  and, 
then,  in  one  simultaneous  outcry,  an  awful  tumult  of 
angry  oaths,  of  panic-stricken  shrieks,  of  screams 
of  pain,  echoed  from  the  houses  of  the  square. 

Miiller  gazed,  fascinated  with  horror,  at  the  ter- 
rorised crowd  of  men  and  women  who  fled  blindly 
to  escape  the  plunging  horses,  the  swords  that  rose 
and  fell. 

A  lane  was  left  open  behind  the  charging  troop ;  a 
lane  strewn  with  prone  bodies  of  men  and  women, 
who  endeavoured  to  raise  themselves  upon  an  arm 
and  sank  ere  they  could  crawl  away. 

The  colonel  smiled  grimly. 


S44  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

"So  I"  he  said.  "That  is  the  way  to  pacify  them, 
Herr  Bruckmann." 

The  civilian  functionary  had  turned  white.  He 
endeavoured  to  smile  back,  but  achieved  only  a  grim- 
ace. The  colonel  did  not  wait  for  his  reply.  He 
went  toward  his  motor  car;  stopped,  with  his  foot 
upon  the  running  board. 
->  "Bring  that  man  along  to  the  Rathaus  I'*  he  said 
to  the  policemen,  pointing  to  Miiller.  Then,  to  the 
civilian,  he  added:  "We  will  establish  a  court-mar- 
tial there  immediately." 

He  disappeared  into  the  car,  followed  by  his 
companion.  A  moment  later  it  was  speeding  along 
the  track  of  the  charging  police  and  passed  out  of 
sight  into  the  street  beyond. 

Several  other  policemen  re-enforced  the  group 
that  held  the  ex-soldier,  and  in  a  compact  body  they 
set  off  across  the  square.  The  tide  of  the  mob  had 
now  flowed  back  into  it.  The  terror  of  the  flashing 
swords  no  longer  immediately  before  their  eyes,  they 
returned,  infuriated  by  the  violence  that  a  moment 
ago  had  struck  panic  to  their  souls,  a  savage  lust 
for  vengeance  blinding  them  to  all  other  considera- 
tions. Howling  for  blood,  hurling  stones,  striking 
with  sticks,  gripping  with  clawlike  hands,  they 
surged  round  the  little  escort,  which  fought  its  way 
forward  step  by  step. 

In  the  narrow  street  at  the  end  of  the  square 
the  police  could  make  no  further  progress.  Two  of 
them  held  Miiller  firmly,  who  was  half  dazed  by 


PEACE  345 

his  treatment,  but,  like  a  caged  wild  animal,  ready  to 
spring  for  liberty  at  the  first  opportunity.  The 
group  reeled  against  one  another  in  the  rushes  of 
the  mob,  struck  out  right  and  left  with  their  sheathed 
swords,  dealing  blows  that  felled  at  each  stroke. 
Still  they  could  not  advance. 

"A  prisoner  I  Rescue  I  Rescue  1*'  howled  the 
mob. 

There  was  an  answering  shout  from  the  upper 
windows  of  an  adjacent  house.  Miiller  looked  up 
to  it.  Men  were  flinging  out  furniture  into  the  street 
below.  He  could  just  see  the  facia  of  the  building 
above  the  heads  of  the  crowd.  It  was  a  baker's 
shop,  which  had  been  plundered.  The  dwelling 
house  was  now  being  sacked. 

One  of  the  pillagers  had  found  a  rifle.  He  ap- 
peared now  at  the  window,  his  face  grinning  in 
triumph  as  he  shouted  a  warning.  The  crowd  fell 
back  from  the  close-beset  escort  in  sudden  alarm- 
The  sergeant  in  charge  whipped  out  an  automatic 
pistol,  shouted  an  order  to  his  men  to  draw  theirs, 
just  as  the  shot  cracked  from  the  window.  He  fell 
in  a  heap. 

For  a  fraction  of  a  second  Miiller  felt  his  captors** 
grasp  relax  as  they  felt  for  their  weapons.  With 
a  violent  effort,  he  sent  both  sprawling,  snatched 
the  pistol  of  the  dead  man,  and  sprang  into  the 
crowd. 

A  fusillade  of  shots  came  from  the  group  of  po- 
licemen,  evoking  another  outburst  of  shrieks  and 


S46  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

cries  from  the  mob,  surging  back,  away  from  them. 
The  police  were  now  isolated  in  a  stretch  of  empty 
street.  They  charged  forward  with  drawn  swords, 
pistols  ready. 

With  the  unthinking  instinct  of  the  battle-trained 
soldier,  Miiller  flung  himself  into  the  shelter  of  a 
chance  doorway  and  fired  rapidly,  with  practised 
aim,  at  the  charging  group.  From  the  window 
above  the  rifle  cracked  repeatedly.  From  the  mob 
came  the  quick  reports  of  other  firearms.  For  one 
minute  more  there  was  an  empty  space  about  the 
savagely  retaliating  policemen^  and  then  the  tumult 
closed,  raging,  over  the  bodies  of  the  stricken  men. 

From  that  point  Miiller  lived  the  unreal  life  of 
a  fantastic  nightmare,  where  one  wild  incident 
blurred  into  the  next.  He  found  himself  borne, 
shoulder-high,  along  the  street  by  the  mob,  acclaimed 
as  leader  by  the  latest  of  their  impetuous  whims.  A 
hundred  wild  figures  clamoured  round  him  for  the 
orders  he  gave  swiftly,  as  by  instinct.  He  forgot 
his  home,  his  children.  He  was  exhilarated  with 
the  sense  of  authority,  uttered  his  commands  with 
the  sureness  of  a  born  leader  who  has  suddenly  found 
his  opportunity. 

The  passion  of  the  crowd,  in  fierce  revolt  against 
all  that  had  hitherto  coerced  their  lives,  was  a 
white-hot  flame  in  his  so  recently  outraged  soul.  A 
quenchless  hatred  for  that  upper  race  which  had 
squandered  millions  of  lives  as  a  vain  fee  for  their 
ambitions  and  succeeded  only  In  rendering  the  Ger- 


PEACE  34T 

man  an  outcast,  dominated  him  like  mania.  All 
that  misery  and  suffering  they  had  inflicted  should 
now  recoil  upon  those  who  gave  the  order — ^the  great 
caste  of  government  officials  and  army  officers. 

An  end  of  it — an  end  of  it;  the  words  beat  in 
his  brain  like  an  echo  of  the  phrase  he  had  shouted 
he  knew  no  longer  when.  Their  power  must  end 
here  and  now.  The  people — he  and  his  like — had 
submitted  long  enough. 

The  instincts  of  an  ancestor  who  had  fought  be- 
hind the  barricades  of  1848  asserted  themselves  in 
him  as  his  own  as  he  led  his  howling,  shrieking  mob 
along  the  shuttered  street  toward  the  Rathaus. 

In  the  open  space  before  the  building  a  company 
of  infantry  was  forming  to  its  front.  Machine  gun- 
ners were  rapidly  assembling  their  weapons.  Miiller 
took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  Another  minute 
and  the  crowd  would  be  exterminated,  the  revolt 
crushed  at  the  outset.  He  ran  straight  toward  the 
infantry,  crying: 

"Kameraden!  Kameraden!  Don't  shoot!  Don't 
shoot!  I  am  a  soldier  like  yourselves!  A  com- 
rade!" 

There  was  hesitation,  doubt,  among  the  men  form- 
ing into  line. 

"Present!"  shouted  the  officer  with  a  curse. 

The  rifles  rose  Irregularly  to  the  horizontal.  The 
machine  gunners  were  not  quite  ready.  The  oflUcer 
opened  his  mouth  for  the  final  order.  Miiller  shot 
him  dead. 


«48  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

A  moment  later  the  infantry  and  the  machine  gun- 
ners were  overborne  by  the  crowd,  which  vocifer- 
ously fraternised  with  them,  cheered  them,  kissed 
them,  shook  hands  with  them,  bewildered  them  in 
a  clamour  of  male  and  female  voices. 

There  was  a  crashing  detonation  from  the  other 
side  of  the  square.  Another  company  had  formed 
a  line;  had  fired  a  volley  indiscriminately  into  sol- 
diers and  civilians.  A  howl  of  rage  overpowered 
the  death  shrieks  of  the  victims. 

The  soldiers  who  had  fraternised  flung  themselves 
prone  and  opened  a  rapid  fire  upon  their  erstwhile 
comrades  in  arms;  civilians  and  ex-soldiers  formed 
the  firing  line  with  them,  snatching  up  the  weapons 
of  the  dead.  Machine  guns  opened  from  both  sides. 
The  battle  commenced. 

Gradually  the  rioters  and  their  scanty  auxiliaries 
were  forced  back  out  of  the  open  space.  Miiller 
found  himself  appealed  to  for  orders  by  leaders  of 
other  sections  of  the  mob  as  well  as  by  his  own  im- 
mediate following.  He  gave  them  with  quick  de- 
cision: ^'Machine  guns  to  the  roofs  of  the  houses; 
snipers  to  the  windows."  The  fusillade  swelled  in 
intensity  with  each  moment  as  more  and  more  of 
the  mob  procured  weapons. 

Still  the  government  forces  held  the  open  space 
in  front  of  the  Rathaus.  Over  the  barricade,  which 
now  closed  the  entrance  to  the  street,  Miiller  glanced 
cautiously  at  the  line  of  prone  soldiers  who  fired 
rapidly,  ten  bullets  against  one,  at  their  concealed 


PEACE  349 

foes.  He  noted  pieces  of  paper  whirling  across  the 
ground  in  a  high  wind  from  right  to  left  of  the  line, 
and  had  a  sudden  inspiration. 

*Tire  the  houses  on  the  side  of  the  square  I"  he 
cried. 

A  noisy  crowd  of  men  and  women  dashed  off  by 
back  streets  to  execute  the  order.  A  few  minutes 
later  dense  volumes  of  smoke  were  rolling  across  the 
square,  blinding  the  aim  of  the  defending  soldiers. 
He  saw  them  rise  and  retreat,  misty  figures  in  the 
smother  of  fumes;  rose  to  shout  his  own  men  for- 
ward.    Something  struck  him  violently  in  the  chest. 

He  woke  from  vague  dreams  of  suffering  to  find 
himself  stretched  across  a  dead  body.  Bewildered, 
he  gazed  round  him.  It  was  twilight.  Ruddy  re- 
flections flickered  on  the  gaunt  skeletons  of  gutted 
houses,  from  the  foundations  of  which  smoke  still 
welled  in  volumes.  In  his  immediate  neighbour- 
hood all  was  deathly  quiet;  but  from  somewhere  in 
the  distance  came  rapid  rifle  shots.  He  recognised 
his  environment. 

"These  cursed  Belgians!"  he  said  to  himself. 
"That's  another  town  fired  to  teach  them  a  lesson  I 
I  hope  they  shot  the  mayor." 

The  illusion  was  complete.  Waking  from  the 
coma  of  his  death  wound,  he  was  back  again  in  the 
wild  days  of  19 14 — the  familiar  gutted  town,  the 
row  of  huddled  bodies  of  women  and  civilians  at 
the  foot  of  the  shot-whitened  wall  near  the  broken 
barricade,  were  unmistakable. 


860  ACCORDING  TO  ORDERS 

He  realised  suddenly  that  he  was  wounded;  en- 
deavoured to  rise  In  an  effort  to  find  his  company  or 
an  ambulance.  His  failure  brought  the  truth  home 
to  him  in  a  thrill  of  horror.  He  clapped  his  hand 
to  his  chest. 

**Metn  GottP*  he  murmured  despairingly  as  he 
sank  back.  "And  the  Hauptmann  said  that  peace 
was  certain  in  a  few  days!'* 

As  his  eyes  closed  he  wondered  whether  the  twi- 
light was  of  evening  or  of  dawn. 


'\.rT^-'Tsk 


U  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subjert  to  immediate  recall. 


^riayifiAMVJ 

'               LI 

) 

m(  19,  \si 

7 

LD  21A-50m-12,'60 
(B6221sl0)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


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YB  3'^  1 54 


